The Years that Followed the Morning After
by Flaignhan
Summary: Sometimes, Emily wished she'd never sent that card. Other times, she was very glad she had. Sequel to The Night Before the Morning After.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So quite randomly I started this fic yesterday (and haven't moved from my seat since). It's a sequel to The Night Before the Morning After, and it's about little Emily, and, of course, dear Tom. Updates will be pretty fast (by this I mean, actually, really fast) and it'll be mega nice to hear whether you guys like it or not. I'm not MASSIVELY into OCs as main characters but Emily is an exception, because for all we know, she could be canon, and I like to think she is.

* * *

**The Years that Followed the Morning After.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

Emily kicked the bookshelf in frustration, and yelped when the solid oak did more damage to her toes than she did to it. She sat down at the nearest table, dropping her satchel to the floor and rubbed her toes, trying to ease away some of the pain.

Once the ache had dulled, she pulled her homework out of her bag along with her quill and ink bottle, taking care to make a great deal of noise as she did so. She unscrewed the lid of her ink and slammed it down on the desk, green splatters covering the surface.

A fifth year working alone at another table looked over to her and tutted, her eyes narrowed. Emily raised an eyebrow in response, challenging the girl to do something, but she merely returned to her work.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Emily muttered as she unrolled a scroll of parchment and picked up her quill.

"What's what you thought?"

She turned her head sharply and winced as she jarred her neck. Tom was standing next to her table, looking as tall and handsome as he always did.

"Oh, nothing," Emily replied, suddenly feeling bad for the commotion she'd been making. What if Tom had been revising for his exams? Had she disturbed him?

He sat down in the seat opposite her and drew his hands together, his long fingers interlaced. He wore a gold ring with a black stone on his little finger, something which Emily hadn't noticed before. She liked it though.

"Now," he said, "what's all this noise about?"

She _had _disturbed him. Her face fell into an apologetic expression and she dropped her eyes to the table. "I'm sorry Tom, I didn't mean to disturb you –"

He shook his head and held up a hand. "You didn't disturb me, I was merely browsing. What's the problem? I take it there is a problem, and you're not just feeling particularly raucous today," he smiled warmly and Emily felt herself relax in his company.

"I wanted to get a book out of the restricted section, but Professor Merrythought says it's not _suitable_ for young ladies. I bet he'd let _Withenshaw_ get it out, Withenshaw can't put a foot wrong in his eyes," she folded her arms across her chest, her lips pouting in displeasure.

Tom frowned and sat back in his chair, hand resting against his chin. "What's so special about Withenshaw? I was always under the impression that he's an idiotic little toad that copies straight out of textbooks without even _reading_ what he's writing."

"He is, you're right," Emily paused and then added, "as always."

Tom chuckled and leaned forward, "Oh my dear, I'm afraid you have a rather high opinion of me."

"I don't think so," Emily replied.

Tom smiled. "I think some of the other girls in the school would beg to differ. What book is it that you were after?"

"_Moste Potent Potions_," Emily told him. "I only wanted it because Professor Slughorn told us all about the different kinds of things that are in there and I just want to read about them, it's not like I'm going to go and start making Veritaserum and slip it into people's drinks, is it?" she sighed, skewing her lips to the side. "And this is a school, unless I'm very much mistaken. We're here to _learn_, aren't we? And _young ladies_ shouldn't even be allowed here if they're not going to be allowed to learn. It's just a waste of everybody's time, isn't it?"

Tom smirked as he listened to her rant, and once she was finished he spoke. "It seems that Professor Merrythought has rather underestimated your ability to deal with the more..._grizzly_ areas of potion making, as well as your desire to learn. I'm afraid he is rather old fashioned when it comes to matters such as this, though I'm sure he does have your best interests at heart."

Emily sighed and pushed the lid of her ink pot around with her quill tip.

"What homework are you doing?" Tom asked, changing the subject.

Emily looked at the title at the top of her parchment. "Switching Spells, sixteen inches."

"Ah," Tom said. He pulled his wand out of the pocket of his robes and waved it. Three books floated smoothly towards him, and Emily watched enviously.

"I wish I knew how to do summoning charms already, we don't learn until next year," she said.

"It's only a few months away, and you can't use magic in the holidays anyway, so you shan't be missing out on much," he smiled and then opened the first book. "You'll want to use this for your basic facts and theory, then this one," he pulled the second book towards him, found the page he was looking for then slid it across the table to her, "is for the more advanced parts of the spell. It's got a lot of good examples about what can go wrong and how you fix it, and _this one_," he opened the final book, flicking speedily through the pages before he stopped, having found what he was looking for. "It's quite dense, so let me know if you have any trouble, but this will guarantee that you get at least a hundred percent. You only have to _reference_ it and Dumbledore will be doing cartwheels around his office. This paragraph here," he pointed to the lower section of the page and Emily's eyes followed his finger, "this is where the real stuff is. Don't bother with the rest, it's just convoluted waffle. _This_ is worthwhile though."

Emily nodded and smiled widely at him. "Thanks so much Tom, that's really kind of you."

"It's my pleasure," he said. "Let me know if you need anything else, I'll be around for the next few hours."

He got up, winked at her and left her to her homework.

She cursed herself as she tried to force the blush in her cheeks down. She had been doing so well until he had _winked_ at her.

* * *

"All done?" he asked, an hour and a half later.

Emily nodded as she rolled up her parchment. He held out his hand and she looked blankly at him.

"Do you want me to proof read it or not?"

"Oh! Yes, if you've got nothing better to do," she passed the parchment to him and he began reading, his eyes moving quickly along the lines of neat writing.

Halfway through he let out a small chuckle.

"What? Have I got something wrong?"

"No," he said with a smile, "you just write in an amusing way."

"Is that bad?"

Tom shook his head. "Professor Dumbledore is going to be reading the same thing at least forty times. It'll be a nice change, to read something that's not only correct, but also _interesting_. I'm sure you'll earn Ravenclaw a considerable amount of house points."

For the second time that day, Emily failed to fight her blush, and opted to look down at the desk while Tom finished reading her essay. Once he had finished, he rolled it up, tapped it with his wand to seal it and handed it back to her.

"Top marks!" he said brightly. "Now, come with me for your reward."

"Reward?" Emily asked. "What reward?"

Tom merely smiled and gestured towards the exit.

Emily packed her bag, wasting no time. In seconds she was on her feet, heading out of the library with Tom. She wondered what her reward was going to be, and what she could have possibly done to deserve one. She didn't have too much time to dwell on these thoughts, however, as once they were on the floor below the library, Tom opened the door of an empty classroom and stood aside so she could go in first.

Once inside, he jabbed his wand at the candle brackets on the walls and they illuminated instantly. He closed the door and set his bag down on one of the tables. he opened it and pulled out an old, leather bound book with yellowing pages that had quite clearly seen better days. He passed it to her and she turned it over so she could read the faded gold lettering on the cover.

_Moste Potent Potions_.

Emily's jaw dropped.

"It's due back in three weeks, so you'd best get reading," Tom said.

"Oh Tom!" she ran her hands over the cover before she flipped it open, eyes wide as they took in the information on the handwritten contents page. She looked up at him. "Won't you get in trouble?"

"Are you going to tell on me?" he asked.

Emily shook her head.

"Then I won't get in trouble. I'll see you soon."

He left the classroom and Emily wasted no time. She sat down in one of the chairs and began to read.

* * *

She hung around in the doorway awkwardly, looking at her feet every so often. Eventually, he noticed her and beckoned her over with a warm smile and a wave of his hand.

She approached cautiously, not knowing how she would be received by the other Slytherin seventh years who were all sat around Tom.

"Did you want to talk to me?" Tom asked once she reached him.

Emily nodded, "I finished it," she said. "I was going to ask when you wanted me to give it back to you."

Tom looked over towards the teachers' table to check that none of them were looking. "I think we'll be safe now," he said with a smile.

Emily nodded and opened her bag, sliding the heavy book out and passing it to him as discretely as she could. He took it and put it inside his own bag.

"I got you this," she said, ignoring Abraxas' raised eyebrow as she pulled a small box of Honeydukes chocolates out of her bag. "Just to say thanks for helping me and getting that book out for me."

"Oh you shouldn't have," Tom said with a warm smile, taking the chocolates from her. He looked at the label on them. "My favourite, how did you know?"

Emily shrugged. "Lucky guess I suppose. Anyway, I'll let you finish your breakfast."

She smiled at him one last time before she departed.

"Are they your favourites?" Arcturus asked sceptically.

Tom shrugged and opened the box, popping a chocolate into his mouth. "Oh yeah," he said after he swallowed the chocolate. "These are excellent."

Abraxas reached over to take one and Tom slapped the back of his hand.

"They're for _me_," he said. "Not you, you oaf."

"I can't believe you," a disgusted voice said.

Tom looked towards the speaker. "Problem, Celeste?"

"She's a _third year_," Celeste said, leaning forward, her long hair falling in a curtain against her shoulder. "Have you got _any_ morals?"

"We have a connection," Tom told her, smirking. "I've never felt this way about any girl before, not even you. I think you're just jealous because she's prettier than you."

Celeste opened and closed her mouth several times before she huffed and turned away from him.

Arcturus let out a long low whistle. "Dangerous ground, Tom, dangerous ground."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I told you updates would be fast. ;) Thanks for the reviews so far guys!

* * *

**The Years that Followed the Morning After.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

"What do you do on a _date_?" Tom was pacing in front of the fire, hands clasped behind his back. "How do I even _ask_ her?"

"Why are you even _bothered _with her?" Arcturus asked, his feet resting on the table in the Slytherin common room, a book open in his lap. "I mean she's _quite_ good looking, but she's innocent as a bloody saint, she's not going to be –"

"I think Tom's issue is more to do with the fact that he will be receiving considerably _less _cards this year, after last year's debacle. How's that scar by the way?" Abraxas smirked from his lazy position in the armchair closest to the fire.

Tom stopped pacing and shot a death glare at Abraxas. Eventually he turned his attention back to Arcturus. "I think I actually like her," he said.

Arcturus put his book to one side and sat up straight. "Excuse me?"

"She's..." Tom said, waving his in the air as he tried to find the right word. "Sweet."

Abraxas snorted, instinctively flinching when Tom whirled around to face him.

"I think you should go to the hospital wing," Arcturus said, standing up. "I'll take you, come on."

"Tom's in love," Abraxas said in a sing song voice. "They can't even cure that at St Mungo's."

"I'm not in _love_ you dolt," Tom retorted. "I just...last year was quite stressful and I won't deny the pickings will be rather _slim_ this year –"

"The _complete_ opposite to Alexandra Curtis then," Abraxas quipped.

Tom ignored him. "There's something about her that just makes me curious."

"And you want to shag her," Arcturus added. "You _do_ want to shag her, right? None of this 'we'll wait until you're ready' business."

"Of course I want to," Tom said, waving Arcturus' concerns away, "I just don't _mind_ when she talks. It was always so _awful_ when the others did it, but she's actually rather intelligent...very intelligent actually, considering she's a fourth year. D'you know she's read half the books in the restricted section already and actually understands the stuff that's written in them?"

Arcturus sighed and fell back onto the sofa, rolling his dark eyes pointedly.

"Anyway, you're yet to answer my question," Tom continued, resuming his pacing. "How do I ask her?"

"Just _ask_," Abraxas said exasperatedly, pulling a lock of bright blonde hair in front of his face and frowning at it. "D'you think I should get it cut?" he asked.

Tom stopped, his mouth open in disbelief. "Hardly the issue, Abraxas!"

Abraxas huffed and dropped the section of hair. "Oh yes, let's just sit here and listen to you whine about your little girlfriend. Bloody hell, you could probably just grunt at her and she'll still think it's the most amazing thing in the universe."

"Girls love it when guys get all shy and awkward, come on, you've done it loads of times before to get what you want, it won't hurt if it's actually _genuine_ this time," Arcturus said, picking up his book once more and flicking through the pages with little interest.

"What do I say though? And what can we do? What is there in this castle that could remotely be classified as _romantic_?" he pulled a face as he said the word and then sat down in the nearest armchair. "I'm so used to them coming to me and only wanting one thing, I just don't know where to go with this one."

"Dinner," Abraxas said. "Have dinner with her."

"Oh yes, that's a sure to get him a one way ticket to Orgasm City, dinner with a thousand other people and a bunch of nosy teachers," Arcturus shook his head, rolling his eyes again.

"_No_," Abraxas argued, "have dinner with her _privately_. Set up an empty classroom to look all nice, get the House Elves to knock something special up for the two of you, she'll love it."

"That's not a bad idea," Tom murmured. He turned to Arcturus, "you arrange it, I'll send her a card."

"Why do _I_ have to arrange it? I'm not the one who's getting shagged."

"Because I told you to," Tom said, as though this were obvious. "We're not going to want to be disturbed so make sure you choose a _really_ empty classroom."

"Yes my Lord..."

Tom smirked and headed up the spiral staircase to their dormitory.

* * *

"Oh _wow._"

Tom stepped forward and took her by the hand, closing the door behind her and locking it. He led her over to the table and pulled out her chair for her. She sat down and looked around at the dozens upon dozens of candles floating above their heads giving the room a warm glow.

"Did you have a good day?" Tom asked as he sat down opposite her.

Emily nodded. "It's even better now," she said with a wide smile. "Nobody's ever done anything this special for me before."

"Really?" Tom asked, pouring some Butterbeer into a goblet for her. "You surprise me."

"Did you do this when you saw all those girls last year?" Emily asked, not meeting his eye.

Tom froze, but recovered quickly. "Emily, the girls I saw last year didn't get any special treatment because they aren't _special_. They were all only after one thing and then they decided that _I_ was to blame for that. They all came to _me_, I didn't ask them, and I _certainly_ didn't have dinner with any of them."

Emily nodded and smiled. "Sorry," she said, "I just...I don't really know why you asked me, I mean, all those cards you got today, you could have got any girl you wanted."

"Believe me, some of the girls who sent me cards...well, between you and me, I wouldn't even touch them with somebody _else's_ hands."

Emily giggled.

" And why would I want to? None of them can hold a coherent conversation, let alone an interesting one, hence me being here tonight with _you_."

"I'm not interesting," she said with a frown. "I'm just...I just read books all the time and do my homework and try out spells that I haven't been taught and –"

"Snap," Tom said quietly, a small smile on his face. "Now, what would you like eat?" he passed her a menu, making sure he brushed his fingers against her own when she took it.

* * *

"Can people actually do it then? I thought it was just a theory."

"Well they're hardly going to go round bragging about it are they? I'm _sure_ Dumbledore can do it."

Emily's eyes widened. "Are you serious? What, he reads my mind?"

"No, probably not. Not unless he's got a reason. But if you get in trouble, he'll be able to tell whether you're lying or not. I believe certain troublemakers find him _quite_ the inconvenience."

"Can you do it?" Emily asked, awestruck.

"I've been reading the theory but it takes a lot of time and practice."

"Wow," she breathed. She glanced down at her watch. "Oh! I was meant to be back an hour ago! Oh _Merlin_ what if Pringle catches me on my way back? He'll have me hanging by my ankles in the dungeons!" she got up quickly, in a panic.

"Hold on, hold on," Tom said, standing up. "You won't get caught, trust me. I'll take you back to Ravenclaw Tower myself and put a Disillusionment charm on us; he won't be able to see us even if he walks straight past us."

"Really?" she asked, biting her lip.

"Really," Tom said, walking around the table towards her, taking her hands in his own. He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.

She reacted instantly, pushing her body against his as he deepened the kiss, one hand resting lightly against her jaw, the other keeping a firm grip on her waist. He broke away from her, his lips descending to her neck, littering kisses all over her soft skin as she sighed into the material of his robes.

* * *

He moved her wavy hair aside and kissed her neck gently. She rolled over, stifling a yawn and looked at him with sleepy eyes.

"Time to get up," he whispered, his hand coming to rest on her upper arm, stroking her skin with his thumb. "Breakfast is in half an hour and you don't want to be seen down here by anybody."

"Okay," she mumbled, and instead of getting up, she just moved closer to him, her skin warming him right through when it came into contact with his chest.

He considered telling her to blow off her lessons, that they could stay in the Slytherin dormitory all day, but he knew that some fairly accurate rumours would probably have spread by morning break and he _didn't_ fancy dealing with those.

"Come on," he said, shaking her gently.

She groaned and sat up, rubbing her eyes as Tom made himself comfortable against his pillows.

"Aren't you getting up?" she asked.

"I haven't got any lessons until after break," he said with a smirk. "Try not to make too much noise, will you?" he winked and Emily scowled.

"That's not fair."

"Life_ isn't_ fair," he reminded her. "I'll see you tonight."

* * *

"Well?" Abraxas demanded, pulling open the curtains around Tom's bed.

Tom smirked.

"_Excellent_," said Arcturus, "how was she?"

"I'm seeing her again tonight," Tom told them.

"That good?"

"Mmm," Tom replied, covering his eyes with his forearm. "Now let me get some sleep, she kept me up half the night."

Abraxas snorted before he disappeared into the bathroom.

* * *

Alison grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to one side.

"And where did you get to last night?" she hissed.

Emily frowned and decided to play dumb. "What d'you mean?"

Alison shook her head, glaring daggers right into Emily's face. "You know perfectly well what I mean. Did all those girls last year teach you nothing? He only wants one thing, and bloody hell, Em! He's a _seventh_ year! That's gross! What's he doing messing around with fourth years?"

"You're just jealous," Emily said, tugging her arm out of her elder sister's grip. "I bet he rejected you last year, didn't he?"

"Did you sleep with him?"

"What? No! Leave me alone, Al," she turned away and disappeared as quickly as she could into the crowds of students heading to their first lessons of the day, leaving her sister standing at the side of the corridor looking murderous.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks for the response so far guys, I'm glad you're enjoying it. Just in case some of you were a little confused, this is less a straightforward linear story and more a collection of key scenes during Emily and Tom's life, but it goes right through to the very end. There are eleven, possibly twelve chapters. And yes, there absolutely WILL be a companion piece to this fic, it's been started already - when you get to the end of this chapter you'll know what I mean. ;)

* * *

**The Years that Followed the Morning After.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

"We're going to need to stop this," he said to her.

Emily turned around, not needing to ask what 'this' meant. All she wanted was a reason.

"Why?"

Tom sighed and leaned against the trunk of the beech tree they were standing under. "We won't see each other," he said simply. "I'm leaving, you've got your OWLs next year, you'll need to put all of your efforts into those –"

"You had NEWTs this year," Emily argued, "_and_ you had Head Boy duties."

"Yes but I also had plenty of free lessons so I could juggle it all, you _won't_."

"Right," Emily said, turning back to the lake. She didn't bother to argue, she had knew as soon as it had begun that he would grow bored of her eventually. That it would end like this. She supposed she should be grateful that he was making those excuses, that he was trying to not hurt her feelings. It all felt rather empty though.

"I have to pack my things," Tom told her.

"Okay," she replied. She didn't turn around.

He walked up behind her and placed a kiss on her jaw. She didn't react, and he admired her for it. It was why he had liked her in the first place, nothing phased her.

He left, and a short while later, Emily headed back to Ravenclaw tower to check her trunk one final time before the leaving feast.

* * *

"How did she take it?" Arcturus asked from under his bed.

"Fine," Tom said, frowning at Arcturus' legs.

A dusty textbook shot out from under the bed frame and collided with Tom's foot. He reached instinctively for his wand, but decided it would be a bit of a low note, to end his gleaming career at Hogwarts with the murder of a fellow student.

"What about you? You're not too heartbroken, are you?" Arcturus sniggered.

"I believe I'll be able to cope," Tom replied with a smirk. "It'll certainly make a change, sleeping on my own, but I managed it before, I'm sure I'll manage now."

"Are you going to miss cuddling up to her?"

Tom breathed in deeply, eyes closed, hands clenched into fists. "You're making it very difficult for me to keep my temper, Arcturus. I would recommend that you shut your mouth before I _remove it altogether_."

"Did you shag her?" Abraxas asked, entering the dormitory with a tower of books and dumping them carelessly into his trunk with a loud crash. "Girls always try harder if they know it's the last time. They think if they're really good you'll change your mind."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer," Tom said, picking up a pile of freshly laundered robes from his bed and placing them in an expanded pocket of his suitcase.

Abraxas tutted. "Where are you going anyway? Do the muggles kick you out now you're eighteen?"

"He's staying at mine," Arcturus called, still under the bed. "Did one of you put a permanent sticking charm on this? I can't get it off at all!"

Abraxas smirked and raised a finger to his lips. Tom shook his head and wondered whether he would find more maturity in the first year dormitories.

* * *

She didn't look at him at all during dinner. It wasn't in an obvious way, either. She laughed at the jokes she was told, listened to her house mates' stories, smiled when she was supposed to and showed no sign that anything was remotely wrong. Her friends constantly glanced over their shoulders at him, and if they caught him watching they would scowl, making sure he knew how displeased they were with his behaviour.

"Wow, nothing like fourth year girls to put you in your place," Abraxas smirked. "Stop staring, you're looking desperate."

"I'm supposed to be heartbroken, remember?" Tom murmured. "I'm doing what's best for both of us, even though it hurts. I care that much about her future that I'm willing to deprive myself of the love of my life...or something."

Tom frowned as he saw one of the boys in her year put his arm around Emily's shoulders. She frowned slightly, and reached forward to grab the bottle of tomato ketchup on the other side of the table, though his arm was still waiting for her when she returned to her previous position. She shot a look towards her friend Annabel, who shrugged her shoulders.

"That little _toad_," Tom narrowed his eyes at the boy, his fists clenching under the table as he watched him lean over and start whispering in Emily's ear.

"If you're going to kill him, I'd wait until _after_ the feast," Abraxas murmured, his eyes following Tom's line of sight. "Dumbledore might cause a fuss."

Tom barely heard him.

Abraxas shook his head, his attention too on the blaspheming fourth year. "Merlin, you don't mess with the Head Boy's ex five minutes after they've broken up. What's he thinking?"

There was a crash as the boy's goblet exploded, shards of metal littering the table, pumpkin juice soaking the table cloth. There were several shocked shrieks from the students who saw, gasps from those who heard their reactions, but above all of the noise, a loud agonising scream rang out. Everybody turned to look at the boy, whose face was bleeding profusely from underneath his hand, a large piece of metal sticking out between his fingers.

Tom's eyes widened and he looked away as Professor Merrythought rushed forward and led the boy out of the hall.

For the first time since he had left her standing by the lake, Emily looked at Tom, and he turned away, determined to not take any blame for the incident that had just passed.

The silence lasted for all of ten seconds, before hushed whispers began to simmer, eventually bubbling into a loud chatter once more.

"Still," Abraxas said brightly, "you're a single man now, you can play the field. I'm sure there are _plenty_ of girls who wouldn't mind having a piece of the most successful Head Boy Hogwarts has ever seen. Why don't we go to Paris, the three of us? I hear there's an entire street that's _full_ of wizarding bars and they're _full_ of half naked witches desperate for –"

"I'm not interested in any girl that's _desperate_. Otherwise I would have got with Augusta Longbottom long before now. And I'm certainly not interested in the _French_. Besides, I've got more important things to be concentrating on."

"World domination?" Arcturus quipped.

Celeste rolled her eyes obviously.

"Absolutely," Tom said, "and when I'm ruler of the world, Celeste will be on her knees, _begging_ me for forgiveness."

"Forgiveness for what? You're the one that needs forgiving and I'm _certainly_ not going to do_ that_ any time soon."

"Forgiveness for your poor attitude and constant bratty remarks. Still, I believe this conversation started without you, and I wish for it to _continue_ without you, so keep quiet, there's a good girl."

Celeste turned back to the other seventh year girls while the boys around Tom snickered at his remark.

"Why can't you plan in Paris?" Abraxas asked quietly. "I'm sure there's loads of interesting stuff there that'll help you. French curses and all rubbish like that. I mean, they eat frogs' legs, they've got to be a pretty messed up bunch. Sounds right up your street..."

"I like the sound of Paris," Arcturus said. "We could get jobs as gigolos so the girls are coming to us and then _paying_."

Abraxas wrinkled his nose. "The sorts of girls that pay for it are the female equivalent of the _men_ who pay for it. Have you seen the state of my Uncle Tyran?" he pulled a disgusted face and pushed his dessert away from him. "No. Bad idea. You can go that one alone."

"It was just an idea," Arcturus said. "But I still like the sound of Paris."

"Why don't you two go to Paris, and I'll stay here and work?" Tom said, making sure to glance over at Emily again. She wasn't looking, and he would have smirked, were he not trying to keep up the façade of a heartbroken man.

"You've been working for the last seven years! Let's go to Paris for a couple of months, live it up, have a good time and then when we get back, we'll be ready to work. Besides, there's no point planning anything now, Grindelward's still trampling all over Eastern Europe, everyone's on red alert. If you get caught doing anything remotely questionable, they'll throw you in Azkaban and never let you out. We're going to Paris."

Arcturus nodded in agreement, smirking at Abraxas.

"I can break out of Azkaban," Tom told them. They snorted in disbelief and he continued. "And while Grindelward is busy trampling Eastern Europe, the Nazis are crawling all over France, machine guns ready to shoot anybody they consider to be an enemy."

"Machine what?" Arcturus asked, his face creased in confusion.

"They can kill you in an instant," Tom replied. "That's all you need to know. And _we_, British people, would be considered as _enemies_ as there is a _World War_ going on. We'll stay here."

"There won't be any muggles running around with machine buns in the wizarding parts though," Arcturus argued.

Tom opened his mouth to correct him but decided it would be a waste of his time. "You two go. Have a good time. Make sure you're back by the end of the summer."

"Come _with_ us," Abraxas persisted. "I won't be able to deal with him on my own," he shot a glance towards Arcturus who flicked a cherry at him from the side of his plate.

"I can't..." Tom trailed off. "I can't _afford_ to go to another country and mess about. I need to find a job and find somewhere to live. I'm not going to be living off of the hospitality of Arcturus' parents for longer than is _absolutely_ necessary."

"Is that what this is about? Bloody hell if you'd said so sooner..." Arcturus sighed.

"Yeah," Abraxas added, "don't worry about it, we'll pay for you, and you can pay us back when you've got the money."

"No. No Paris. No girls. No frogs' legs. We're going to work. Success comes with hard work and perseverance, it does _not_ come with messing about in France, catching Merlin only knows what from a bunch of filthy girls –"

"Filthier the better, I find," Abraxas interrupted.

Arcturus smirked, but managed to hold in his laughter.

"– and sitting around eating ridiculous food all day."

"All right Tom," Abraxas said, "you're the boss."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** This is a fairly short one, but I'm sure you'll survive. There'll be more tomorrow morning. Thanks to all those who have reviewed so far!

* * *

**The Years that Followed the Morning After.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

She paused, brushing her fingers against the soft material samples, glancing out the window of Madame Malkin's shop. She jumped as a small child with dark hair leapt out from between a rack of robes, hands raised as though they were claws, face scrunched so her small teeth were showing and her eyes creased.

"Maisy! Go back upstairs with your sister!" Madame Malkin ordered.

"I want to make robes!" Maisy said, stamping a foot on the wooden floor of the shop, her small lips pushed into a pout.

"_Go_," Madame Malkin said, pointing towards the back of the shop.

Maisy stormed off and Madame Malkin turned to Emily.

"I _am_ sorry," she apologised, "she can be such a handful sometimes."

"It's all right," Emily said with a smile.

Madame Malkin smiled and gestured to the stool. "What are we doing for you today then my love?"

"Three sets of Ravenclaw robes," Emily replied, stepping onto the stool.

"We've got a new design this year for the young ladies, little bit more flattering, little bit more fitted, only two sickles more than the bog standard ones, if you'd like that?"

"Er, yes, I suppose so," Emily said. Her mother wouldn't mind paying the six extra sickles, she probably wouldn't even notice the price increase.

Forty five minutes later, Emily left the shop with her mother and Alison following on behind her.

"Are you _sure_ you don't want some new dress robes?" her mother asked for the third time.

"When will I wear them?" Emily asked, again for the third time, heading towards Flourish and Blott's.

Her mother sighed and followed her into the shop, Alison disappearing immediately amongst the shelves while Emily and her mother went to fetch the books she'd be needing for her seventh and final year at Hogwarts.

Once she had collected those, she began browsing the shelves for any titles that might interest her. She spotted something, and passed the books she was holding to her mother in a jumbled rush, pulling the book in question from the shelf.

_Magic of the Mind._

_Learn the exquisite arts of Occlumency and Legilimency._

_Keep your secrets safe, along with everybody else's._

"I don't think that's suitable," her mother said, her carefully plucked eyebrows frowning in disapproval. "What about something about household charms? They're always handy to know."

"I want to read _this one_," Emily said, "I'll buy it myself if you won't buy it for me. When you said I could choose a book for myself I didn't realise there was a restriction on what I was allowed to read."

"I'm not getting that for you and I won't allow you to buy it. I shan't have it in my house. _Mind reading_, honestly."

"Well I'll just order it when I get to Hogwarts then," Emily argued.

"I wouldn't bother, it's not very good."

Emily turned and was greeted by a face she hadn't seen for quite some time.

"Tom," she said simply.

"Congratulations, I hear you're Head Girl," he took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it softly. "Sorry to interrupt," he glanced towards Emily's mother. "But that book isn't worth your money or your time."

Emily's lips twisted into a smirk. "And what book would you recommend on this particular subject?"

"I wouldn't," Tom replied. "Young ladies ought not to be learning about such things. Professor Merrythought would have a heart attack if he knew you were interested in _mind reading_."

Emily half laughed and her mother smiled. "You see? If you won't listen to me then at least listen to...I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"Tom, Tom Riddle. I take it you're Emily's mother?"

Her mother smiled widely, already charmed by Tom. She opened her mouth to respond but was cut off before she even managed to get a single word out.

"I heard you're working in a shop."

Emily rolled her eyes as Alison joined them, hand on hip, eyebrow raised, three books tucked neatly under her arm.

"Alison, always a pleasure," Tom said with a smirk. Emily could see by the look in his eyes that he held absolutely no pleasure in talking with her sister. "And yes, you heard correctly. It's not perfect but it pays the rent while I complete my further studies."

Alison huffed. "Thought you would have been able to get something a bit better than that, seeing as you were the 'best student Hogwarts has seen since Albus Dumbledore'."

"Good things come to those who wait, Alison. It's all about hard work and perseverance. Emily knows all about that; perhaps that's why she got the Head Girl badge? I believe...Celia Watson got it in your year, didn't she?"

Alison huffed and pushed her glasses further up her nose. Tom ignored her and turned his attention back to Emily.

"We should catch up, before you go back to Hogwarts. I'll take you out for lunch."

Emily nodded. "How about now?" she asked.

"Perfect," Tom said with a smile. "You don't mind me stealing her from you for an hour or so, do you Mrs Pranghurst?" he gave her an encouraging smile and she shook her head, her neatly styled hair bobbing against her shoulders.

"No that's absolutely fine, I'll pay for these and we'll see you back at home, okay Emily?"

"Yeah, all right," Emily said, grinning.

Tom held out his hand and she took it, following him from the shop.

* * *

"It's hardly the _best_ place," Tom said apologetically as Emily scanned the menu in the Leaky Cauldron. She looked up and smiled.

"It's fine," she said. "To be honest, I'd take double Divination over an afternoon of shopping with Alison and my mum, so this is heaven, comparatively."

"What's wrong with your mother? Alison...well I can see why you're not too keen on her, but your mother seems nice enough."

Emily smiled. "She's too much like Professor Merrythought. Young ladies shouldn't be doing this or that, they should only be doing household charms and beauty charms and learning how to look after children." She pulled a face and put the menu down. "The beef casserole sounds nice, I think I'll have that."

"Well I don't imagine many mothers want their daughters learning Legilimency," Tom said, stroking his chin as he perused the menu. "Yes, the beef casserole does sound rather good..."

"I didn't say I was going to _learn_ it," Emily argued.

"But you had every intention of doing so," Tom replied with a smirk.

"Well, maybe," she conceded. "What books did you read? Did you ever learn?"

Tom smirked. "I suppose you're old enough for us to have wine with our dinner now...how about a nice bottle of red?"

"Tom," she persisted, lowering her voice and leaning across the table.

"Michael's going to be very upset if he finds out you had dinner with me, isn't he?"

Emily froze, and then sat back in her chair, arms folded. "Red sounds fine to me."

Tom smirked.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Thanks again for the reviews guys. Hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it!

* * *

**The Years that Followed the Morning After.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

"And then he was like, 'well we were never properly going out anyway so it's not even classed as cheating, I don't know why you're getting so wound up,' and then I was like '_excuse _me?' Can you believe him?" Annabel waited only a second or two before nudging Emily with her foot under the table. "Em?"

Emily sat up and widened her eyes slightly, "Oh, no, I can't. What an idiot." She took a sip of her Butterbeer and put her glass back down on the table.

This seemed to be all Annabel needed to continue. "So I said that I wasn't going to have anything to do with him anymore and he _acted_ like he didn't care but I know deep down he did because he looked completely heartbroken when I left and I'm so glad I did that because now he knows he can't just mess me around and if he wants me he has to want me properly and he _definitely_ can't go round seeing other girls behind my back and try to explain it away by saying we weren't even properly together anyway. What does he call the last three months?"

"Yeah, I know, right?" Emily replied, her brain working on autopilot as she studied the menacing faces of the jack-o-lanterns lined up on the windowsill.

"Well _exactly_, I'm glad _you_ understand. How's it going with you and Michael?"

"Fine," Emily replied, glancing around at the crowds of students filling The Three Broomsticks with noise and chatter. "We write to each other and everything, I'll see him quite a bit over the summer. He's going to try and get me a job in his friend's Dad's shop."

"Oh that sounds all right, what do they sell?"

Emily shrugged, jumping when a hand landed firmly on her shoulder.

"Hello," he murmured into her ear. "Thought I might see you around here somewhere."

Emily turned around to look at him and smiled. His face was inches from hers, his perfectly sculpted jaw showing just a little stubble at that late hour in the day. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and in her peripheral vision Emily saw Annabel raise an eyebrow.

"_Tom_," she said warningly. "I've got a boyfriend."

Tom's nose creased. "Oh yes...Mitchell or something, wasn't it?"

Emily couldn't help but smile. He knew full well what Michael's name was, he was just making a point.

"_Michael_," she corrected.

"Ah," he said, a fake expression of recognition lighting his face momentarily. "Well, never mind him for now, will you take a walk with me?"

Emily glanced towards Annabel, who for once, was staying quiet. "Is that all right?" she asked. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No, I suppose not..."

"I'll see you back at the castle?"

Annabel nodded, and sipped her Butterbeer through her straw. Tom frowned.

Emily slid off of her stool and followed Tom out of the pub, keeping her head low in the hope that nobody would see her disappearing with the womanising ex-Head Boy that she had once been involved with.

"How old is she?" he asked one they were outside.

"Same age as me," Emily answered, knowing exactly what he was getting at. "It's so she doesn't mess up her lipstick...and apparently men find it sexier."

"I find it downright repulsive," Tom said. "Only _children_ use straws."

"Does it matter?" Emily asked, pulling her cloak tighter around her to protect her from the unforgiving gusts of wind. "What d'you want anyway?"

"What makes you think I want anything other than your company?" he asked.

Emily said nothing and they walked down the lane in silence. Once there was a sufficient distance between them and the masses of Hogwarts students, Tom took her hand in his own and all became clear.

"Tom, I've got –"

"An idiot who constantly takes you for granted," he said, cutting in. "Did I ever take you for granted? No. Did I ever make you unhappy? No. I _miss _you."

Emily stopped and let go of his hand. He turned to face her, one hand travelling up to stroke a finger along her jaw line. She let her eyes flutter shut and within seconds his lips had met with hers and she found that despite her conscience screaming that what she was doing was wrong, she didn't want to push him away.

He pulled away from her, his grey eyes locked on hers. "Somewhere more private?"

"Yeah," Emily breathed, and he took her hand.

They turned together, disappearing into the crushing black.

Emily didn't take in her surroundings once they had reappeared in reality. She didn't have any time to. Tom was already kissing her fiercely, steering her backwards around several pieces of furniture until she felt the softness of a mattress against the back of her knees. She fell onto the bed, pulling him down with her, desperate to have his hands on her bare skin.

Emily had slept with Michael only once and it had been a rather messy and unsatisfying affair that she had tried hard to forget. What she had been unable to forget, however, (not that she'd tried) were all the nights she'd spent in the Slytherin dormitory, Tom's body pressed against her own, staying up late into the night and then waking to hushed conversations between Arcturus and Abraxas. Often she would pull the curtain aside and join in if Tom was still asleep, other times she just watched him.

"Tom," she breathed, eyes shut as his lips travelled over her skin.

"What?" he asked.

"...Nothing."

* * *

"I should go," Emily said, though she didn't move, opting to stay wrapped around Tom, her face resting against his chest.

They stayed quiet, their breathing falling into sync. Eventually Tom spoke.

"I'm going away tomorrow."

"Where?" Emily asked, twisting to look at him. His eyes were looking towards the ceiling, though they didn't seem to be seeing anything at all.

"America...Albania...anywhere beginning with 'A' really."

"Australia?" Emily asked.

"Maybe," he replied.

"Get me a boomerang if you go to Australia. I want one of those."

"What do you want a stick that comes back for? Haven't you learned Summoning charms yet?"

"I just want one," Emily said, smiling into his chest.

"Right," Tom replied, his small frown disappearing after a second, "I probably won't see you again though."

Emily's frown returned, more pronounced this time. "Why?"

"I'm going away for a _long_ time."

"What's happened?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbows, "are you in trouble? Is it money? I can help you out if it's money –"

Tom smiled and stroked her back, pulling her gently down towards him so she was laying against his chest once more. "I'm not in trouble," he assured her. "I'm just going away, seeing the world, trying new things, all of that."

"Will you write to me?"

"No."

"Oh."

"I'm breaking contact with Abraxas and Arcturus as well," he said. "Don't take it the wrong way. I just wanted to be with you, one last time."

"I thought you wanted to get back together with me," Emily replied, but she didn't manage to keep the bitterness from seeping into her voice.

"If it's any consolation, I won't be getting with anyone else when I'm away."

"Oh yeah?" Emily asked sceptically.

"_Yeah,_" Tom said, "I'm not going to have much contact with humans at all, actually, so I imagine finding a girl who's half as good as you won't be particularly easy."

"Why aren't you going to have contact with humans? What are you doing?" she started to sit up again but he held her in place against him.

"Experimenting," he said simply.

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," she replied.

He kissed the top of her head and they said no more.

* * *

She sat at the table, staring blankly at the last breakfast she would ever have inside the castle.

"Oh stop looking so glum," Annabel said, taking a bite out of her toast. "It's only school! It's done now! We can be proper adults and do what we want and we won't have _homework_."

"Haven't you enjoyed it though?" Emily asked.

"The homework? No, especially not this year, I've barely had a second to myself!"

"Not the _homework_," Emily said exasperatedly. "Being here?"

"What, with students dropping dead in our second year and Professor Kettleburn trying to teach us about trolls by bringing out one of the '_baby_' ones from the Forbidden Forest to our lesson? Yeah, it's been a right laugh."

Emily sighed and turned her attention on her breakfast once more, realising she would make no headway with Annabel on the matter. Since her fourth break up with Terry, it seemed she couldn't wait to get out of the school.

The screech of the post owls sounded, though the delivery was considerably less today than it was usually – no parents bothered sending their children anything when they would be seeing them later that day, so it was much to Emily's surprise when a package landed on the table in front of her.

It was a large box, and seemed to have been delivered by three jet black owls that were now gliding towards the hatch that led to their freedom. None of them belonged to her parents.

She pulled the brown paper off of the package, tossing it aside as Annabel peered over her shoulder curiously. She took the lid off of the cardboard box, her jaw dropping when she saw what was inside.

"What is it?" Annabel asked, scowling at the foreign object.

Emily laughed and picked up the smooth piece of wood that was carved with intricate designs.

"It's a boomerang!"

"A what?"

Emily didn't bother repeating herself. Instead she hugged the boomerang to her chest, inhaling the fragrant scent of the wood, her eyes closed.

She was sure she could smell him.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thanks for your reviews guys! No Tom in this chapter I'm afraid. Sad times. =[

* * *

**The Years that Followed the Morning After.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

She frowned, waiting for it to return. Granted, she had thrown it rather hard that time, and it had disappeared between the trees, but it had come back every time so far. Why not now?

The answer presented itself in the form of a man, dressed all in black, his robes screaming the word 'expensive' despite their plain colour and the distance at which Emily was viewing them. He was holding the boomerang in his gloved hand, striding purposefully towards her.

She considered reaching for her wand, but decided that it would be too aggressive a move. Instead she placed her hand on her hip, near the pocket of her trousers, ready to take her wand if she needed it.

His face became clear as he neared her and Emily dropped her hand from her hip, knowing that there was no danger.

"Emily," he said, his lips smirking as he took in the sight of her. "My my, you've hardly changed." Arcturus held out her boomerang and she took it from him, holding it against her body as though she were a toddler with a teddy bear that she wasn't _quite_ ready to let go of just yet.

"I know," Emily replied with a smile. "Everybody else is getting older and I still get asked how old I am when I order a Firewhiskey."

Arcturus narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, bringing his hand up to her chin, tilting her head left and right, inspecting it thoroughly in the sunlight. The leather of his glove was cold against her skin, though she said nothing.

"I saw your sister a few weeks ago, in Gringotts," he said, drawing his hand away.

Emily nodded. "She works there."

"Yes, I realised that when the sour little trollop asked me a thousand and one questions before allowing me access to my own gold."

Emily smiled briefly. "That's Alison for you," she said with a shrug.

"She hasn't aged half as well as you have," Arcturus smirked in a way that only Slytherins knew how, one gloved finger trailing across her cheek.

"Thanks, I think," Emily said, leaning away from him. Her was mouth creased, with her face caught halfway between a smile and a frown. "She's a couple of years older than me though, so –"

"He sent you that?" he nodded towards the boomerang, still hugged against her chest.

Emily paused in confusion. "Yes, why?"

Arcturus chuckled. "That sly old dog..."

"_What_?" Emily demanded, wrapping her fingers around the end of the boomerang, concerned that he was going to take it off of her.

"Nothing," Arcturus replied, his laughter subsiding. "I guess you really got to him, didn't you?"

Emily frowned and stayed quiet.

"He's coming back, you know. Soon. I got a letter from him a few weeks ago."

Emily's teeth shone through her lips as she smiled widely. "Can I see him? When's he getting back?"

"No," Arcturus replied firmly, tearing her excitement to shreds. "You can't see him."

"So why did you come here then?" Emily asked. "Or was it merely to bring me back my boomerang?"

"_Your_ boomerang nearly took my head off," Arcturus retorted haughtily. "I came here for another reason."

"To tell me that Tom's coming back but he won't let me see him? I could have got on quite well _without_ that information, thank you." She turned away and began to walk back to the house, aware that her mother was watching from the window of her father's study.

"Maybe if you realise you won't get him back then you'll put that boomerang down once and for all," Arcturus said, walking past her and turning on the spot, inspecting the grounds that surrounded Emily's house. "This is a rather respectable estate, what does your father do?"

"He works in the Ministry," Emily said vaguely, a frown settling on her face, with no intention of budging.

"Must be rather high up to have a place like this..." Arcturus replied.

"It was inherited," Emily told him, her fingers gripping her boomerang more tightly, as she pressed it harder against her chest. "What do you want?"

"Hmm?" Arcturus spun around, his eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

"You heard me," Emily said, and Arcturus' expression fell away in seconds.

"You see through me _so_ easily," Arcturus said, moving towards her. "And yet you always believed every word he said. Is he really that much more of a better liar than I am? I'm not even lying, particularly. I just thought I'd inspect your surroundings a little more before we get down to business, just to make sure that I won't be getting into something I might regret."

"What are you talking about? Tom never lied to me."

Arcturus laughed softly. "Oh sweetheart, do you _honestly_ think that's true?"

Emily didn't reply. She knew it was true and she wasn't going to let anybody, let alone Arcturus Black of all people, convince her otherwise. Tom had still sent her the boomerang, even after he'd said he was going to break contact. It was _her_, not Arcturus or Abraxas, who he had wanted to see before he left. He had chosen her over his best friends. Perhaps Arcturus was jealous and trying to stir up trouble. Tom had sneaked her book after book after book from the restricted section of the library, purely to make her happy, he didn't get anything out of it at all.

"It's all by the by anyhow, you won't be seeing Tom again, and Merlin forbid you stay with that idiotic _Hufflepuff,_" his lip curled for a moment.

"Emily, the reason I have come here today is to offer you an alternative. You were destined to end up with a Slytherin and it's time to accept that that won't be Tom."

Emily closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was somewhere else.

"I think you will find me to be a reasonable husband, once we have an heir I'll leave you to do as you please. You'll be financially secure, you'll have a grand house to live in, and I'll only beat you three times a week."

Emily opened her eyes and looked at Arcturus, trying to work out whether he had been confunded. It was the sort of ridiculous thing Abraxas would do as a prank. She wasn't finding it funny. It was more along the lines of vomit-inducing.

"I was joking about that last bit by the way," Arcturus added in a low voice. "I'll beat you whenever I damn well please."

Emily rolled her eyes and walked past him without saying a word, heading back towards the house. The sun had disappeared behind some clouds and suddenly she wasn't so keen on throwing her boomerang any more.

"I'll leave you to think about it, okay?" he called after her.

She jogged up the stone steps to the patio and as soon as she took her hand away from the boomerang in order to open the French doors, she missed the feeling of the silken wood against her skin.

* * *

The bell on the counter rang, short, sharp and impatient. Emily stepped out of the storeroom, her shoulders drooping when she saw the two men at her counter.

"My _word_, you're right," Abraxas said, his brow creased as he surveyed her. "Not a _single_ day..."

"Ten galleons then, I believe," Arcturus said, holding out his hand.

"Double or nothing, she doesn't know."

"Of course she doesn't _know_," Arcturus retorted, waggling his gloved fingers, beckoning Abraxas' gold into his hand. "Cough up."

Abraxas sighed and leant his cane (the handle a sculpted silver snake – what else?) against the counter, before he reached into his pocket, eventually pulling out a money bag made from dark shiny dragon hide.

"What do you two want?" Emily asked. "I'm rather busy so if you wouldn't mind hurrying things along a bit, it'd be much appreciated.

"Arcturus was telling me how you hadn't aged a single day in twelve years. Yet your poor sister, who we just saw in Gringotts, looks as weathered and crusty as the hag who hangs about at the entrance of Knockturn Alley."

"Just lucky, I suppose," Emily said, frowning. "And that's what you were betting on? Me looking half decent for my age?"

"No," Abraxas said, "half decent is one thing, not ageing by a single day is _quite_ another."

"Right..."

"There are other matters," Arcturus said, tipping ten golden galleons into his own dragon hide money bag, "such as your answer."

"Answer?"

"Remember how Arcturus requested your hand in marriage? Or did he lie when he told me about that bit?" Abraxas said with a smirk, his hands resting on the top of his cane.

"Oh...that."

"I'm afraid he's always been rather keen on having Tom's seconds," Abraxas continued and Arcturus opened his mouth to argue, but Abraxas continued before he got the chance. "It was bound to happen at some point, though I must say, and understand, I say this from the perspective of somebody who lived with him for seven years, spent four months with him in Paris, and now _still_ puts up with his company."

Emily couldn't help but let out a small breath of laughter, one side of her mouth turned up in amusement.

"So, as you can see, my knowledge of the man standing next to me is probably second only to _Tom's_."

She didn't react at the sound of his name, though her fingers itched for carved wood. She breathed in, noting the distinct lack of sweet smelling birch wood in the air.

"We are, however, digressing just a little. The fact of the matter is, Arcturus would make a far more suitable husband for you than any _Hufflepuff_ ever could. Did you know when Arcturus was on the Slytherin quidditch team we beat Hufflepuff every single time we played them? I believe the victories were _particularly _magnificent after Morsewell joined as chaser."

"Oh _well_," Emily said, "if he's better at quidditch then how could I _possibly_ resist him?"

Arcturus smirked. "You always were a clever girl." He held out his hand. "Come along, let's liberate you from this pig sty."

Emily glanced at his leather clad palm, turned around and went back into the store room, slamming the door behind her.

Arcturus dropped his hand at once.

"Never mind," Abraxas said, whacking him on the back in what was supposed to look like a comforting gesture (but was really just an excuse to hit him), "I suppose you'll just have to get a woman who ages along with the rest of us."

Arcturus recovered quickly. "Her loss," he said breezily. "I wonder how she'll take it when she finds out what he's been up to. What if she _sees_ what he looks like now?"

Abraxas smirked. "Well I suppose the good thing is that _I_ am now the most handsome one. I'll get all the women from here on in, you can just keep chasing his old floozies."

"You're one to talk, I believe _your _wife had him several times back in the day."

Abraxas shrugged.

"Did you hear Augusta Longbottom got married?" Arcturus said, waving his wand in the direction of the door so it flew open, ready for them to leave. "How comes _she_ can get somebody to marry her but I can't?"

"Have you seen the troll she married though? I heard he's almost a squib. If you're that desperate why don't you marry one of the Midgen girls? They're all single and _utterly_ charming."

"All the charm in the world couldn't make up for waking up next to one of _those_ faces every day for the rest of my life. I think I'll take the bachelor route."

"Good idea," Abraxas agreed, using his cane to whack a path between the crowds of people clogging up Diagon Alley. "I sometimes wish I'd chosen that one myself.

"How _is_ little Lucius?" Arcturus asked with a smirk.

"Personally I think we should have drowned him at birth, but Celeste wouldn't hear of it."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Thanks again for the reviews, guys. This chapter's a little shorter, but the next one's a fair bit longer, so it's swings and roundabouts really. Enjoy!

* * *

**The Years that Followed the Morning After.**

**by Flaignan. **

* * *

She hid. She had no other choice, and in the small shop there were not very many places to hide at all. She held her breath, wand shaking in her fist as she pressed herself into the wall, hoping that they wouldn't see her, hoping that the screams would stop soon and they would just _leave_.

Yes, she was a coward, but she had no hope against _him_. What was the point in adding one more name to the list of the dead? He'd wipe her out in a second.

She considered disapparating, but after what had happened to Ernie when he had tried the same, she thought it would be better to stay put and stay quiet. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the screams that echoed inside her head, agonising and desperate. Eventually he had fallen silent, the wrecked remains of his body crashing to the floor.

A solitary tear trickled down her face, her chin wobbling as she tried to keep calm. She could see his reflection in the window at the back of the store room. He wasn't like any man she had ever seen. Hopefully he wasn't like any man she would _ever_ see again. She couldn't bear the thought of there being more than one of_ his_ sort.

There was a cold sweat breaking out all over her body, her light silk blouse becoming damp in no time at all, all the while her body shaking with fear.

A loud crash almost made her shriek, but the hand that wasn't gripping her wand managed to cover her mouth just in time to stifle it. Part of the ceiling had collapsed, most likely due to a ricocheting spell. Another tear leaked out and she clamped her hand even more tightly on her mouth to try and muffle the sound of her panicked breathing.

Silence fell, and Emily closed her eyes, praying to anybody that would listen that she would remain unnoticed. She heard a deep intake of breath in the other room, as though somebody was inhaling a pleasant scent.

Only _he_ could enjoy the smell of burning, dust, panic and that slight metallic flavour left over from the curses he had rained down upon them. Only _he_ could act like he was savouring the smell of a particularly _good_ cup of tea.

"Come out from behind the wall, my dear."

Emily whimpered and pressed her hand even harder against her mouth.

"Don't make me force you, it won't be pretty."

Emily dropped her hand, took a deep breath, her eyes closed. She thought of her family, her friends, she thought of Michael, and suddenly she wasn't _mad_ at him anymore. Suddenly she felt able to forgive him, but she'd never be able to tell him. She thought of all the things she would never get to do and wished that she hadn't wasted her life by working in the same shop for the last fifteen years.

If this was how she was going to die, she certainly wasn't going to be dragged kicking and screaming. She was Emily Pranghurst and she was _not_ going to be a coward any more.

She stepped out into the main shop, the cracked counter being the only object between her and the half a dozen men standing proudly amongst the rubble. She frowned as she recognised two of them instantly.

"Arcturus," she breathed, his haughty expression showing no signs of recognition. She looked over to the man with neat, platinum blonde hair, an expensive emerald ring sitting on his wedding finger. "Abraxas."

He smirked and nodded at her in greeting.

She turned to the man in the middle. He was looking at her curiously, his head cocked slightly to one side, his eyes focused on her face. Her stomach sank as the truth presented itself, solid, real, and completely inescapable.

"Tom?"

"Let's make one thing clear," he said, his voice coming out in a hiss that made her recoil. "Should you _ever_ address me by that name _ever_ again, it will be the last thing you do. Do you understand me, Emily?"

She made no move to show that she had understood. "So it _is_ you then?"

"It _is_ me, yes," he replied, his once-grey eyes only making her feel uncomfortable now they were locked upon her. There was a time when he could make her blush, just by looking at her. Not now, though. Never again.

"Right," she said, taking a deep breath. Perhaps she _would_ get out of this. If there was any humanity left in him at all, maybe he'd let her go. He hadn't killed her yet...

"Well, it's been nice seeing you and everything –"

Arcturus' haughty expression trembled as he pressed his lips together, attempting to hold in a laugh.

"My Lord," one of the others interrupted, "the Aurors will be here at any moment –"

"Let them come," he hissed, not even bothering to face the speaker. "Leave if you are a coward, we are finished anyway."

"But the girl –"

"The girl will not be harmed. Not today. Do _not_ argue with me."

The Death Eater closed his mouth before he said something he would regret.

"Join me," he said, holding out a pale hand over the counter. "I will ensure your safety...providing you prove your usefulness to me. You always _were_ an intelligent witch. Too intelligent to be working in a _shop_. Too intelligent to be wasting your life with that piece of muggleborn_ filth_ who so _cruelly_ cast you aside."

She looked down, avoiding those awful bloodshot eyes.

"_I_ never cast you aside, did I?"

Emily stood her ground. She knew full well he was reading her mind. He had done it before and it hadn't scared her then, so it certainly wouldn't scare her now. She was _not_ going to let him bully her into taking the wrong path. She didn't want to be in his pocket for the rest of her life.

"Tom never cast me aside. But you're not Tom, are you, _my Lord?_" she surprised herself with the amount of venom that filled the last two words.

His malformed features twisted into a smirk. "You always were much braver than the others when you were speaking to me. I always admired you for it. I still do, in fact."

Emily said nothing, and Arcturus and Abraxas watched the exchange with mild interest.

"Tell me," he said after a short silence. "Did you like your boomerang?"

"Yes," she said, her face hard. Then, feeling a little braver, she said, "tell Tom I said thank you, won't you?"

He smirked, and for a second, she could still see the same perfect Head Boy that she had fallen head over heels for when she was a teenager. The same man who had held her close in complete silence for hours the last time they had met.

"You're still a pretty little thing, even when you're angry... you haven't changed a bit..." he stroked a long finger down her jawline and Emily had to fight against a shudder. His hands were ice cold, despite it being the middle of summer.

She leaned away from him instinctively and he drew his hand back.

"I'm still the same man, Emily. I just go by a different name. Come with me."

"You're not the same," Emily argued. "Not even close. I won't come with you, not now, not ever. I'd have gone with Tom in a heartbeat. But I can assure you, I won't be going anywhere with _Lord Voldemort_."

"She _dares_ to speak your name, my Lord," Abraxas said, his eyes twinkling with dark amusement.

"And you _don't_," Emily retorted. "Coward."

Voldemort began to chuckle, bringing his hands together in a resounding clap that echoed throughout the ruined shop. "You _see_, Emily? _This_ is why we had dinner. _This_ is why I bothered to see you more than once and _this_ is why I bothered sending you that boomerang."

Emily said nothing, deciding that now it would be best to stay silent. He seemed to be pleased with her behaviour and there was no need to change that. Not if she wanted to walk out of this shop alive, anyway.

"Still, you've made your decision, and that's fine," he continued. "The offer is always going to be open if you change your mind."

He leaned forward and brushed his cold lips against her cheek, causing the contents of Emily's stomach to rise in her throat.

"Goodbye Emily," he said simply, before he turned around, gestured to his followers and left in a whirlwind of black robes.

She sank to the floor and began to cry, as one by one, Aurors from the Ministry popped up, wands out and ready to duel.

"You're too late," she told them, wiping at her eyes. "You're all too late."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Thanks, as always for the reviews, guys. I'm glad you're enjoying it. I can't outright promise a chapter tomorrow, because it hasn't been started yet, but hopefully there'll be one. Hope you like this one, let me know what you think!

* * *

**The Years that Followed the Morning After.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

Emily slotted her book neatly back onto the shelf, and stretched. She glanced over to the clock and groaned.

"I'm going to bed," she said to Alison. "I'll see you in the morning."

"G'night..." Alison said absent-mindedly, not taking her eyes off of the long roll of parchment she was studying, quill tucked behind her ear.

Emily left the library and walked across the tiled floor, towards the staircase. She climbed upstairs quietly, her hand sliding along the carved wooden bannister, dropping off at the end when she reached the first floor landing.

She pushed open the door to her bedroom, waving her wand at the lamp near her bed. A warm glow immediately filled the room, casting enough light for her to find her pyjamas amongst the neatly arranged piles in her wardrobe.

Three loud cracks echoed throughout the previously silent house, followed by a high pitched scream that Emily knew could only have come from her sister.

She dropped her pyjamas as soon as she heard the noise, drawing her wand and running towards the door, pulling it open. It banged on the wall, the round brass knob leaving a large dent in the adjoining wall, though Emily couldn't care less. She didn't even notice.

She ran down the stairs, taking two at a time, her father close behind her in striped blue pyjamas, his grey hair sticking up at peculiar angles. He might have looked comical, were it not for the expression of anger and determination fixed on his features, all traces of tiredness banished by adrenalin and fear for his daughter's safety.

Emily was first in the library, where six hooded figures stood, cackling as Alison fought desperately to defend herself, her wand swishing rapidly through the air as she jumped, twisted and turned to avoid jets of dark magic.

"_Stupefy!_"

The Death Eater it was aimed turned around just in time to block Emily's spell, sending one back at her that she only just dodged in time.

Alison took her opportunity, casting a stunning spell at him while the attention was focused on her father, sister and now also her mother. She too had joined the scene, dressing gown wrapped around her, hair in curlers and her wand out, a fierce expression on her face.

The Death Eater dropped to the floor, and the others immediately raised their wands.

"Lord Voldemort would be _very_ displeased if he found out you had been here," Emily warned them, her wand directed at the nearest Death Eater.

Her mother, father and sister gasped at the sound of the name, but the Death Eaters merely snorted.

"Call him here, I _dare_ you."

"The Dark Lord has more important things to be doing, we shall deal with this ourselves."

Emily turned her wand on the masked figure who had just spoken in a dark and oily voice. "And what, exactly are you dealing with?"

"The Dark Lord has given us permission to wreak havoc in our spare time. We had some spare time tonight, so..." he trailed off, then quick as a flash, directed his wand towards Emily's father.

Before any of them could do anything, a jet of blue light hit him, throwing him back against the bookshelf on the far wall, his wand rolling away from him when he landed, unconscious.

Emily acted quickly, taking advantage of the moment of shock. She sliced her wand in the direction of the offending Death Eater, his face erupting in painful boils under his mask. He cried out, his hands flying to his face, yet still not daring to remove his mask, for fear of his identity being revealed.

Alison and her mother sprung into action, her mother managing to stun one Death Eater before she took on another, her wand moving faster than Emily had ever seen it. No household charms had ever required _that_ amount of wandwork.

Alison began charming the books on the shelves and they flew towards their attackers with alarming speed, beating them around the head and obscuring their view while Emily and her mother continued to fire curses.

Once the Death Eater who had cursed Emily's father had managed to rid himself of all of his pustules, he pointed his wand towards the wall, flicking it sharply, a satisfied grin visible below his mask.

The bookshelf against the wall began to lean over, showering Alison with thick heavy volumes, pages and hard leather covers flying everywhere. She threw her arms over her head as book after book pummelled her, crying out as the spine of a hefty encyclopaedia of protective charms cracked her on the back of the head. She dropped her wand, touching her fingers to the top of her skull, then pulled them away to see bloodstained fingertips.

Emily froze. It seemed to happen in slow motion. All of them stood to watch as, with an enormous creak, the bookshelf toppled over, trapping Alison underneath.

"Alison!" her mother screamed, running towards the upturned bookcase, her quilted slippers slapping on the floor of the library.

She never reached Alison, a stunning hex hitting her squarely in the face. She fell to the floor, with a sickening crunch, her body crumpling as though she was made of marshmallow, leaving Emily on her own to face four Death Eaters.

"Call him," she said, backing away as they approached, drawing together into a semi-circle. She kept her eyes on all four of them, pointing her wand at whichever one looked most likely to shoot first. "I _dare_ you."

The one on the left shot a stinging hex at her, and she blocked it, thanking Merlin that Tom had shown her how to defend herself properly. The hex rebounded and hit one of the walls instead, igniting one of the tapestries. It was covered in flames in less than a second, and Emily's jaw dropped, knowing her father would be furious when he woke up; that particular tapestry had been in their family for over four centuries. She glanced towards the leering Death Eaters, who were watching the flames dance with amusement.

"_Aguamenti!_"

An immense jet of water burst forth from her wand, suffocating the flames in seconds, leaving a soaking wet, ruined tapestry dangling pathetically from the charred wall.

The action cost her dearly. The Cruciatus hit her with such a force that she didn't even realise what was happening to her for the ten long, agonising seconds, until the curse was lifted.

She was laying face down on the rug, yet had no memory of actually falling. The faded patterns swirled before her eyes in a mess of beige, blue, green and red. She sat up, looking at her right hand blankly, realising that there was no wand clutched in her sweaty palm.

"Shall we take it in turns?" one of them snickered.

"Shall we wake the others and make them watch?"

Emily's lip trembled as she looked around for her wand. It was lying on the floor ten feet away from her. She scrambled towards it, the painful spasms in her muscles making sure that her attempt was pointless.

Before she was even halfway towards her only means of survival, the Cruciatus hit her again. This time it was held for longer, the pain more acute. The sound of her own screams filled her ears, though she could not _feel_ herself making any noise at all.

"Bring him here!" she said breathlessly when she was given a moment's respite. "_Now!_"

They laughed, and another wand was pointed at her.

Emily tried to keep her entire body from shaking. She would _not_ let them think she was scared. "If not him, then Arcturus! Or Abraxas!"

The wand faltered, the laughter stopping short.

"I _dare_ you!" she hissed.

One of them squatted down in front of her, peering at her curiously through his mask. "So much assumed authority for one so young," he mused.

"You tell Lord _Voldemort_," she said the name with disdain. Lord Voldemort had taken Tom Riddle away from her. She hated him, but he was her only way out of this alive. "You tell him that Emily wants to see him. _Now_."

The Death Eater raised his wand and whispered a spell that Emily could not make out.

She gasped as the blood began pouring from her stomach, the pain too much for her to even feel, as though she had touched a hot surface and her brain was telling her it was cold.

"I _dare_ you," she breathed, her limbs becoming heavier and heavier.

"I suppose I can grant your dying wish," he said with a smirk. He rolled up his sleeve showing a thick, muscular arm with coarse hair covering the skin. He turned it over, revealing a tattoo of a skull with a snake winding its way through the mouth, as though it were a tongue. He touched the tip of his wand to the image and moments later there was a loud crack of apparition.

He took one look at her, his permanently bloodshot eyes lighting with rage.

"She wanted to see you, my Lord," the Death Eater said mockingly, turning to face the tall skeletal figure who had once gone by the name of Tom Riddle.

There was a flash of green and in an instant the smug face became fixed in one of shock.

The three remaining Death Eaters disapparated in an instant, fearing a similar fate, as their master sunk to his knees, pushing up Emily's blood soaked shirt to inspect the damage. He pressed his wand against the skin, muttering counter curse after counter curse, until he found one that made a small, but still _some_ improvement on Emily's state.

"My Dad," she whispered.

"Don't talk," he ordered.

"Can you help him? I don't know what they hit him with, and Alison's trapped under the..." she trailed off, closing her eyes, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

He glanced quickly over his shoulder at the fallen bookshelf. One flick of his wand put it back in its rightful place, another sending all of its books back home, revealing Alison, battered, bruised and bloody, though in a much better state than Emily. Another flick of his wand caused her to regain consciousness.

He turned back to Emily, casting and re-casting the charm that was making such abominably slow progress.

"Get away from her!" Alison was pointing her wand at him.

"I need you to make a blood replenishing potion," he hissed.

Alison didn't lower her wand.

"_Now,_ if you wish for your sister to still be alive in the morning."

"Al..." Emily whispered. She found it too difficult to say anything more.

"Quiet, you're wasting your energy."

Alison ran off and returned moments later, juggling a cauldron and a large stack of ingredients in her arms. She pointed her wand towards her mother, who was lying face down on the rug. A couple of pink rollers, having come loose from her hair, were scattered some distance away from her.

"_Enervate!_"

Her mother sat up, hand against her head.

"Mum! Wake Dad up!" Alison told her as she got to work, chopping up ingredients and emptying them into the cauldron. It seemed the blow to the head had not hindered her potion making abilities in the slightest

Her mother turned and saw him kneeling over Emily.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, feeling around on the floor for her wand.

"He's _helping_ her, Mum," Alison explained. "Here, squeeze the juice out of these, and _wake Dad up_."

"What's wrong with her?" she asked weakly, taking the beans that Alison had thrust towards her, squashing them with the side of the knife. She passed them back to Alison and approached Emily.

"You're blocking my light," he hissed.

She stepped back, then glanced towards her husband. She pointed her wand towards him, a jet of purple light waking him instantly. He looked around, blinking several times before he realised where he was, and what had happened. His jaw dropped when he saw him, his wand pressed against his daughter's stomach, blood soaking the rug beneath them.

"What in Merlin's name –?"

"Are you done yet?"

"Just a second," Alison said, pushing her glasses up her nose. She stirred quickly, flecks of potion splashing out of the cauldron and onto her trousers. She changed directions with her ladle, a large gloop of black liquid sloshing onto the floor. She cursed under her breath, and for the first time, her mother didn't scold her.

Thirty seconds later, Alison was dipping a cup into the dark mixture. She hurried across to Emily, leaving a trail of black drips on the rug that covered the library floor. She knelt down raising Emily's head with her hand, tipping the cup against her lips.

Emily coughed as she tried to swallow, sending splatters of potion over Alison, who persevered, pouring the potion down her throat.

He watched, his thin lips pressed together as Alison took the cup away from Emily's mouth, laying her head gently down on the rug.

"Will she be okay?" she asked quietly, not looking towards him.

"I believe so," he replied stiffly.

"She kept daring them to summon you," Alison whispered. "How does she – is she one of –?" she couldn't get the sentence out, not knowing quite how to ask a murderer whether her sister had joined his despicable cause.

"You don't recognise me," he said, getting to his feet. Emily's body rose with him, following the command of his wand. "I look rather different now. Which is her bedroom? She needs rest."

Alison looked at him for the first time, surveying the high cheek bones, wondering what they would have looked like with _proper_ flesh, not just a waxy layer of skin covering them.

"Her bedroom?" he prompted again.

"Up the stairs, turn right and it's the third door on your left."

He turned to Emily's mother and nodded, leaving the mess of the library smoothly, Emily floating at his side.

* * *

"Tom."

He clenched his fist but did not draw his wand. He imagined Emily would have something to say about it if he murdered her sister.

"That is the last time you shall address me as such, but yes."

"Mum and Dad want to call the Aurors," Alison said, nearing the bed and standing awkwardly by the side of it, her fingers pressed together as she talked into the air, not wanting to look at him.

"There will be no _need_," he informed her. "I will remove the remaining Death Eaters and fix any damage. You shan't be bothered again. Please extend my apologies to your parents."

"All the stories," Alison said, glancing at him and looking away again, "they say you're pure evil."

"And?"

"You're not."

"Are you disappointed?"

"No," Alison said. "Just confused. You could have been anything, you didn't need to do this, you had the brains and the charm to get _anything_."

"I have made advances in magic that you wouldn't believe," he replied. "Brains and charm do _not_ achieve those kinds of results."

"If you're pure evil," Alison continued, knowing she was walking on thin ice, "why did you save her? Why after all these years? I know you never cared about her, that it was all just an act. And she _swallowed_ it, the silly girl."

"You speak just as openly as she does," he replied, avoiding the question. "It's a trait I have always admired in her."

He picked up the boomerang on her bedside table. "Does she throw it often?"

"Every day," Alison said wearily, "and even when she's not throwing it she's carrying it round with her like she's got a Permanent Sticking Charm on her."

His mouth twisted into something that was almost a smile. He put the boomerang back in its place and trailed one pale finger down the side of her cheek. "Have you ever wondered why she doesn't look a day older than eighteen?"

"Frequently." She was unable to hide the hint of bitterness in her tone.

"It was an invention of mine. Technically she will never die, not of old age or disease at least. It seems she still has weaknesses, however."

"She's immortal?"

"_I_ am immortal. _She_ does not age."

"Because she throws the boomerang?"

"Yes."

"That's..." Alice couldn't think of a word that did it justice.

"I know."

* * *

She awoke to see him sitting in a chair next to her bed. The first thing she noticed was that the chair did _not_ belong in her bedroom. It was a high backed leather armchair with small brass studs dotted along the edges. The second thing she noticed was that he was sleeping.

Emily looked over to the window. Sunlight was streaming in through a crack in the curtains, creating a strip of illuminated flooring, splitting the room into two separate halves.

He awoke with a deep breath, blinking once before all his thoughts came into focus. "How are you feeling?"

Emily thought for a second, before answering. "Stiff."

"Better stiff than dead."

"When you put it like that..." Emily said, groaning as she sat up.

"I am giving you no choice now," he said, after a short pause. "You are coming with me. I can guarantee your safety in no other way."

"I don't want you to guarantee my safety," she told him with a frown. "As grateful as I am that you saved me, I still think that you're utterly vile."

He chuckled loudly. "I will either leave here, and there will be no trace of Death Eaters having set foot in this place, _or_ –"

"Or?"

"Or I will leave here with you, and there will be no trace of Death Eaters having set foot in this place. In addition, the most powerful protection spells ever invented will be cast upon this house and each member of your family."

"Ah."

"So you're coming with me?"

"Why do you even want me around?"

"You will have your uses, I assure you," he clasped his hands together, his expression confident.

"I'm not going to –"

"You will not have to do anything you have never done before," he told her.

Emily frowned. "What will I be doing?"

"You'll have to wait and see. Do not take it that you will be a prisoner by any means. You will be free to leave during the day –"

"Only the day?"

"It is too dangerous at night," he said. "You will have anything you wish for," he paused, and crossed his legs, pressing his fingertips together. "I have recently gained possession of a collection of books, too dangerous in subject matter even for the restricted section of the school library."

Emily opened her mouth, but it was a short while before words fell out. "My family will be safe?"

"I give you my word."

Emily smiled weakly. "You haven't changed _that_ much, you know."

"Nor have you. It seems I can still bribe you with books that you aren't allowed to read."

Emily smiled tiredly and stifled a yawn.

"Rest," he said, standing up and vanishing the chair. "I will return tomorrow to collect you."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Been while, hasn't it? I had major block with this one but I think it turned out all right in the end. Thanks again to all those who have reviewed, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

**The Years that Followed the Morning After.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

He opened the door to her bedroom and walked in, though his usual stride was noticeably absent, replaced with a tired and well hidden (though not to Emily's eye) limp. He closed the door behind him and went over to her bed, sitting down on the purple satin sheets, letting out a shaky breath. He was paler than usual, his eyes even more bloodshot than they had been when he had seen her earlier on in the evening.

"It's late, why are you still working?" he said, his voice slightly muffled as he pressed his face into his hands.

"What happened?" Emily got up from her chair and went to sit next to him on the bed, pulling his hands away from his face so she could inspect the already ruined features.

"It seems I rather underestimated the Prewett brothers. Very talented wizards, the pair of them."

"Did you kill them?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, though it took rather more effort than I imagined," he heaved another breath.

"Are you hurt?"

"Worn out," he said, "I'm an old man these days, after all."

"No you're not," Emily argued. "You're only a little bit older than me."

He chuckled, turning his head so he could see her properly. "Maybe I should have got a boomerang for myself."

Emily smiled. "Anything I can do?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I just need to rest. Don't tell the others."

Emily rolled her eyes. "As much as you might not like it, you _are_ still human, you know."

"Never." He moved further back onto the bed, and settled himself onto the overstuffed pillows, closing his eyes.

"D'you want me to go?"

He shook his head, and Emily put her hands in her lap, staying still for a moment before she got up and went back over to her desk. She sat down and pulled her chair in quietly, wincing as the legs scraped on the wooden floor, breaking the silence. She picked up her quill, tapping the excess ink off into the ink jar and paused, frowning as she tried to find her place in the book she had been looking at before he had arrived home.

After ten minutes of brushing the feathery end of her quill against her face and flipping boredly though pages of spells created by misinformed wizards, she shut the book quietly, glancing over her shoulder to check she had not disturbed him.

He was laying, perfectly still with his hands resting on his stomach, long pale fingers laced together. His eyes were closed, and the flickering candlelight just caught the shape of his bleached out eyelashes, resting gently against his prominent cheek bones.

Emily turned away. There was a time when he had had eyelashes that she considered to be wasted on a boy. Now, however, he was just a mess, worn out and damaged, bearing no resemblance to the handsome teenager she had once been crazy over.

The door opened and Emily spun around on her chair, touching her sock-covered feet down on the floor once she was facing her uninvited guest.

She was standing in the doorway, her heavily lidded eyes narrowed as she looked between him and Emily. Her lips were fixed in their usual haughty pout, her thick shiny hair perfectly straight and tucked behind her ears.

"Bella," Emily said, not even bothering to plaster a fake smile on her face. It was too late in the day to be troubled with false niceties. "Always a treat..."

"What have you done to him?"

Emily tutted. "How about you knock before you burst in here?"

"I knock only for the Dark Lord," Bella retorted. "What have you done?"

"I've done _nothing_. He's sleeping, Bella."

"Sleeping!" Bella hissed, disbelievingly. "The Dark Lord does not _sleep_."

"No, he does not, Bella."

Both women started at the unexpected noise and turned towards the bed. He was still laying there, in exactly the same position, eyes closed, lips pressed together as though they had not spoken a word since he had laid down.

"He does not, but he would if you weren't bursting in here making such a racket. Now get out, and stop being a bother."

Emily smirked and turned to Bella.

"And you are wrong. You knock for the Dark Lord and you knock for Miss Pranghurst as well, do you understand me?"

"Yes, my Lord," Bella looked at her feet, her bony hand resting on the wooden door frame.

Emily's smirk became more pronounced and she turned back to her desk, moving a large bundle of scrolls aside. She slid her latest issue of _Transfiguration Today_ towards her, opening it to the contents page, her finger trailing down the list of articles until she found one that didn't sound like it would bore her to tears.

"You're still _here_, Bella," he reminded her. "Close the door behind you."

Emily clamped her lips shut to keep herself from laughing and she turned the pages of her magazine, as though she wasn't even listening. She glanced at the window, Bella's glaring reflection disappearing from view as she pulled the door shut with more force than was necessary.

"She doesn't like me," Emily said after moment, more amused than concerned by the matter. "She can't keep away from you though."

"You were like her once," he said. "An infatuated child."

"Yes, but I was fourteen and you were _good looking,_" Emily replied defensively. Bella was in her twenties, and still acting like a petulant teenager. Emily had grown up long before then.

He laughed. "That's true. Though while my looks may have gone downhill, my greatness has multiplied exponentially. Some women are more attracted to power and intelligence than they are to handsome faces."

"Those women are only after a piece of the power," Emily said. "Don't give it to her."

"As if I'd give her anything other than _work_," he said, mild indignation altering his tone. "She can't be left alone without finding _something _to kill, I'm not going to go ahead and give her _power_. You must think I'm mad."

"So _she_ is too messed up, even for your tastes?"

"What kind of tastes are we talking?"

"Any."

He paused. "Yes, she is rather. But I suppose she does have her uses, and she _is_ faithful."

Emily yawned and stood up. She walked over to the bed, lifting up the pillows that he wasn't resting his head on and taking her pyjamas out from underneath. She went quietly into her bathroom, and changed quickly.

There was a time when she hadn't cared about changing in front of him. Even though he would watch her with his grey eyes creased at the corners in something that was almost concentration, his lips smirking all the while, she hadn't minded. He wouldn't bother opening his eyes now, not because she had got any less beautiful, or because he cared any less, but because he was no longer Tom.

She blew out the candles and climbed under the duvet, pulling it up so it was tucked below her chin.

"Good night, Emily."

"Good night."

When she awoke, early next morning, he was gone.

* * *

She opened the door to her bedroom, eyes straying over to her dressing table as she went over to her desk, ready to continue with her research. She froze, halfway across the room, and turned her head slowly.

There was an empty space on her dressing table, conspicuous due to the fact that a large, curved piece of birch wood _should_ have been sitting there.

Emily crossed the room in a hurry, peering under the table, to see if it had fallen, glancing around, first at her desk and then her bedside cabinet to see if she had accidentally put it down elsewhere.

Her blood began to pump rigorously through her veins, and she was very aware of the sound of her heart, thudding in her chest. Her fingers trembled as she reached for her wand.

"_Accio Boomerang,_" she said, her voice shaking a little.

No boomerang appeared.

Emily repeated the charm half a dozen times before she threw her wand down in a shriek of frustration, dashing over to the mirror to check her reflection.

Were those wrinkles around her eyes? Was it just the low light or did her skin look weathered? Those bags under her eyes hadn't been there yesterday...

She looked down at her hands and they seemed bonier, and shakier. Her nails looked dry and brittle. She looked away, lifting her hand to run it through her hair. It felt _thin_.

Emily shoved the door of the dining room open and it crashed against the statue of Salazar Slytherin that _he_ had insisted be put there.

"My boomerang's _gone_."

Everyone was looking at her, three dozen sneering, pale faces, with him, sitting in the centre, examining her appearance with narrowed eyes.

"We'll look for it later," he said quietly, turning his attention back to a piece of parchment that he had flattened out on the table in front of him.

"No," Emily argued, "We'll look for it _now_. I'm getting older by the _second_," she glanced at the window, tearing her eyes away when she saw her reflection.

"The Dark Lord _said_," Bella stood up, glaring at Emily.

"Yes, _thank you_, Bella," he hissed. "Emily is quite aware of what I said. She is, after all, neither deaf, nor an idiot."

"My Lord, she disobeys your _every_ command," Bella protested. "She acts like a spoiled child if she does not get her way!"

"She is merely distressed because her most treasured object is missing," he said, standing up, staring at Bella so hard that she shrank back into her seat without even thinking about what she was doing. "I do _not_ command her. She has not taken my mark, she is not my servant. She is my _guest_."

"She should respect your instructions," Bella mumbled.

"Well here is an opportunity for you to set an example. Be _quiet_. This matter is none of your concern. Emily, we will find your boomerang after I have finished here, it can't have gone far, though if it _is_ gone, I will be able to enchant another one. It doesn't matter."

"It _does_ matter," Emily said sulkily, "I want _that_ one, not a replacement."

He opened his mouth to speak, but Arcturus and Abraxas entered the room, the former holding a sodden red handkerchief to his nose. The boomerang was in his hand, a few splashes of mud marring its surface. Abraxas was sniggering.

Emily snatched the boomerang from Arcturus' leather covered hand and began to polish the surface with the sleeve of her robe, brushing off the dirt not resting until it was completely clean.

"Why did you take it?" she demanded, rounding on Arcturus. "It's mine, don't touch it!"

"I don't want it anyway," Arcturus said, in a voice that would have been dismissive, were it not for the fact that all he could manage through his broken nose was a thick mumble.

Emily hit him in the chest with it and he winced.

"Arcturus is rather fed up of getting grey hairs," Abraxas informed the room, his lips forming a delighted smirk as he spoke. "He believed the boomerang would work for him in the same way in which it does for Emily. It took at least eight throws for him to realise that it was only ever going to hit him in the face and not make him any younger at _all_."

Emily clutched the boomerang to her chest, resting her chin on the tip. "Don't you _dare_ touch it again," she said dangerously.

Abraxas smirked again and Emily thwacked him on the chest as well. He coughed at the sudden force, one hand flying to his chest and rubbing the area where she had hit him.

"What in the name of Merlin was _that_ for? _I_ didn't steal it! He did!"

"You watched!" Emily shrieked, her hysteria only slightly eased by the return of her boomerang. "You stood by and watched while he took my boomerang and started messing around with it!"

Emily turned to the rest of the room. "Mark my words," she growled. "Should any of you even _think_ about touching my boomerang, I will personally see to it that you die a slow and painful death."

She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

"I think Miss Pranghurst has made herself quite clear, now, if we can return to our business," he sat back down in his chair – the largest and most extravagant of all the ones crowded around the long oak table.

He took a deep breath, one long finger tapping the parchment at the point he had got up to in the discussion. He opened his mouth to speak, though said nothing. Instead he looked up at Arcturus.

"For _Merlin's sake_, will you _stop_ bleeding all over the carpet?"

Abraxas smirked, again, though his amusement vanished when a bottle of ink hit him squarely between the eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Thanks for reviewing guys. This chapter should get a reaction out of you...

* * *

**The Years that Followed the Morning After.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

"I'm leaving now," he was standing in the doorway.

Emily did not turn around.

"Nothing will be in my way after this. After tonight everything will be plain sailing."

"Because a _baby_ is really messing up your plans," she tutted, flipping the page in her book. She fidgeted, lifting up both of her feet in turn so she could slide the short zip on her ankle boots down and then pulled them off, dropping them on the floor next to her chair.

"You heard what Severus said about the prophecy, you –"

"And since when have you given a _damn_ about Divination?" Emily demanded, slamming her book on the desk and turning to face him. "You know as well as I do that it's the biggest load of Flobberworm dung since –"

"_Not_ this time," he said, cutting her off. "Besides, why do you care about one measly child?"

"He can't defend himself, and he's of no threat to you. There was a time when you would have considered harming children _too_ low," she turned her back on him, picking up her book once more, making it clear the conversation was over.

Still, he stood in the doorway. "They're having a feast downstairs, if you wish to join them. Bella's even carved up some pumpkins."

The turning of a page was the only sound he got in response.

"I'll be back later."

He left, and once Emily had heard his footsteps disappearing down the stairs, she placed the book on the table.

If she had never sent that Valentines card when she was fourteen, she wouldn't be stuck at Myre Creek now.

She'd most likely be dead, or would have at least aged in a natural way.

She was unsure which of the three options was the most preferable.

* * *

Emily sighed and pushed her book away from her. He had been gone for three hours and she was starting to get worried. Surely killing a child couldn't take more than three minutes? Perhaps he'd run into some problems with the Fidelius Charm.

Her heart leapt into her throat as she caught sight of the reflection of somebody standing behind her in the window. She whipped around and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it was only Bella.

"Hello Emily," she said, her brow fixed in that ever present scowl that they had all become accustomed to.

"Hi, Bella," she replied, running a hand through her hair as she let out a deep breath. "You scared me."

"Never mind."

Emily frowned just a little and brushed it off. Considering the amount of time the pure blooded families spent banging on about how they were so refined and special, Emily found it quite amusing that sometimes most had the social skills of an irritable grindylow. She found it even more amusing that they worshipped a man who was half muggle by blood.

She was forbidden to talk about such things of course. Only Arcturus and Abraxas knew about that.

"You never get older," Bella said, closing the door behind her. "What's your secret? Woman to woman, you can tell me. Is it the boomerang?" she smiled, and the look didn't suit her.

"It's not my secret to tell," Emily said, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm not even sure how it works. All I know is that the Dark Lord wishes for me to remain...perfect, in his eyes." She was twisting the knife and she knew it. She also knew that Bella was not here for beauty secrets.

"He cares only for your looks, then?"

Emily laughed, not taking the bait. "Why let me get old and ugly when he can prevent it? I won't die of old age, and that's just the way he wants it."

Bella's chin wobbled a little, and Emily glanced towards the closed door.

"You're married, Bella. You shouldn't be chasing after another man."

"The Dark Lord never married you. He must not want to commit," Bella pushed her thick dark hair over her shoulder, revealing long dangling earrings – goblin made, as she would tell anybody who so much as looked at them.

"The Dark Lord does not _love_ me," Emily informed her, unable to keep herself from laughing at Bella's naivety.

Bella's eyes lit up.

"He just wishes to have me around. There is a difference."

"The difference being he will gladly cast you aside at any moment?"

"I never took his mark, never professed my allegiance to him, never promised a thing, other than to stay with him. And yet here I am, forty years after we first met, privy to all of his secrets and his plans. I'm quite sure that he will _never_ cast me aside, no matter how much you might wish it."

Bellatrix let out a low feral growl. Emily turned around, under the pretence of returning to her book, though her eyes scanned the desk furtively for her wand. She nudged the top drawer of her desk open with her knee and glanced inside, seeing only scrolls of parchment littered with calculations, notes and doodles.

Eventually she saw it, on her dressing table, laying next to her boomerang.

She stood up, book in hand and wandered over to her bedside cabinet, setting the book down as she pretended to search for something in the drawer. "As charming as this little chat has been, Bella, I'm really rather busy," she shut the drawer with a snap and headed over to the dressing table, sparing a glance in Bella's direction. "The Dark Lord left me with a task to complete this evening and he will be most _displeased_ if he finds that you have distracted me," she turned her attention to the dressing table, reaching for her wand, only her hand never touched the Yew.

Bella's hand gripped at her jaw, forcing her head up. Emily tried to call out, but found she couldn't breathe, let alone make a noise loud enough for the others to hear over the racket of their Halloween feast.

She struggled, trying to grab her wand, but Bella pulled her away from the dressing table, slamming her against the desk, where the only weapon in touching distance was a roll of parchment. Emily reached for it regardless of its utter lack of life saving potential.

The ordeal didn't last long. She felt something cold against her neck, colder than anything she'd felt before, even colder than _his_ hands.

Emily didn't feel it when she fell, her head hitting the desk. She didn't feel it when she slid to the floor.

She didn't feel anything at all after that.

* * *

"You're lying."

"No Bella, it's all over the wireless, you can see the fireworks from here, _look_," Rodolphus hauled her in front of the window of the dining room, colourful explosions scattered over the night sky as witches and wizards celebrated their freedom all over the country.

"I won't believe it until I see him," she said, her heavy jaw set stubbornly.

"Abraxas and Arcturus have gone to investigate."

"_Old men!_" Bella spat. "What good are they? What good have they ever been?"

"Bella, you should have more respect when talking about your Uncle."

Bella turned quickly, her jet black hair fanning out behind her, finally coming to rest on her left shoulder.

Arcturus was pulling off his leather gloves, the colour washed out of his already pale face. Abraxas was standing next to him, resting his weight on his cane. He too, looked paler than usual.

"Well?" Rodolphus asked, taking his hands away from Bella. "Do you have news?"

"I'm afraid so," Abraxas said. "It appears that the Dark Lord is no more."

"And the child?" Rodolphus demanded. "Did he kill the child?"

"_No_," Abraxas answered. "He did not. It appears that little Harry Potter is the first person to ever survive the Killing Curse."

"So the Dark Lord is gone and it was all for nought?" Rodolphus sat down in the nearest chair, his fist clenched.

"He took Lily and James Potter with him, though that is _little_ consolation," Arcturus continued. "The place is crawling with Aurors, we were unable to get a close look. We saw them remove three bodies from the wreckage. The boy has gone already – he's under Dumbledore's protection."

"Wreckage?" Lucius asked, arriving in the dining room. "Are the rumours true?"

"Yes," Abraxas said. "The rumours are true. There was barely anything left of the house when we arrived. Fetch me a Firewhiskey, boy."

Lucius scowled but didn't argue, his eyes dropping to the cane in Abraxas' hand before he moved over to the drinks cabinet.

"You can pour me one while you're at it," Arcturus told him.

Lucius' only response was to noisily take an extra glass from the cabinet and set it on the counter.

"You can go and tell Emily," Arcturus said.

"Why me?" Abraxas asked straightening the lapels of his jacket. "Why not you?"

"You're better friends with her than I am."

"You were the one who wanted to marry her," Abraxas argued, taking his glass of Firewhiskey from Lucius.

"I've already shirked the responsibility, just because you weren't fast enough, _old man_..." Arcturus nodded at Lucius as he took his own glass from him, and Lucius leant against the table, holding his hands together as his father argued about who would go and break the news to Emily.

"Why don't you go together?" Bella interrupted, her voice milder than it normally was. She trailed her fingers over the carved designs of the wooden chair next to her, her lips pouting, as always.

The pair of them stopped arguing.

"That's an unusually _sane_ suggestion from you, Bella. Are you turning human on us?" Arcturus quipped.

Bella narrowed her eyes. "I am merely sick of your bickering when there are far more important matters at hand. We must find the Dark Lord and aid him, if he needs our help at all, _which I doubt_."

"I believe him to be _beyond_ help, Bella," Abraxas said, taking a sip of his Firewhiskey as he paused. "I never imagined he would be the first of our lot to go," he said, a mild expression on his face. "I suppose death catches up with us all in the end...except for Emily, of course."

"Mmm," Arcturus agreed, frowning at his reflection in the mirror. "So many _lines_...I was handsome once."

"Really? Was that before we met?"

"_Stop!_" Bella shrieked. "How can you stand there _drinking_ and making _jokes_ when our entire world has fallen apart?"

"Bella, the Aurors will hunt us down soon enough, now they know he is gone, and I'm afraid only Azkaban awaits us all. You must accept your fate, my dear," Arcturus set his glass down on the dining table with a sigh.

"_Never_," she growled, hand gripped tightly around her wand. "Those of us who are _loyal_ to the Dark Lord shall _never_ just sit and accept his death when we all _know_ the Dark Lord is immortal."

"Try telling that to his corpse," Abraxas replied, before turning his attention to Arcturus. "Come, we'll tell her together."

"_Fine_."

* * *

"Who do you think it was?" Arcturus asked in a whisper. He kneeled down, grunting as his joints protested and turned her body over.

Her blue eyes were open and glassy, her light brown hair matted with the blood that had pooled around her, though the carpet was clean – evidently her charms still worked, even if her body did not.

"Does it matter now? He's gone, and so is she. We've got our freedom to worry about, and we can't help her now."

Arcturus touched her face gently with his fingertips, then brushed his palm over her eyes, closing the lids.

"We should bury her," he said at last, twisting his head to look at Abraxas.

"Very well, we'll do it tonight. The garden."

"We're not just going to throw her in a _hole,_" Arcturus argued.

"I know we're not, but where else can we bury her? Where else would be fitting? This is her _home_."

Arcturus nodded. "Okay," he said. "Tell the others, I'll bring her down in a moment."

Abraxas left the room.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Thanks for your reviews guys, the next chapter will be the last in this epic 2 week saga.

* * *

**The Years that Followed the Morning After.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

After the immediate anger had subsided, he turned to the few followers who had bothered to show up.

"Lucius, where is your father?"

"Dead, my Lord."

Voldemort closed his eyes, took a deep breath and continued. "And Arcturus? Where is he?"

"Also dead, my Lord," Lucius answered, looking towards the ground.

"My two most loyal followers, _dead_. And yet here I am, _alive_. Do you know how much your father sneered when I told him I would one day be immortal? It seems that Lord Voldemort has been proved right once again. Though what am I left with? Pathetic excuses of wizards. You're not half the wizard your father was, Lucius. You will amend the situation."

"Yes, my Lord, of course, my Lord."

"Very well. I take it our base remains undetected?"

"As far as I'm _aware_, my Lord."

"As far as you're _what?_"

There was a crack as Severus Snape appeared in the graveyard, and Voldemort turned around.

"My Lord, I apologise for my lateness –"

"Your lateness? Or your desertion?" Voldemort hissed.

Snape's expression remained blank. "Potter has informed Dumbledore of your return," he continued. "And the _Minister_," he said the title with disdain, "has seen to it that Barty Crouch will no longer be of any use to our cause."

Voldemort's red eyes narrowed. "Come come, Severus, lower your defences..."

There was silence as Snape seemed to do as he was told, and eventually Voldemort seemed satisfied. "We shall return to Myre Creek," he informed the circle. "Come, all of you."

They left Little Hangleton in a flurry of black and reappeared in a large hallway, still as clean and well maintained as the day Lord Voldemort had last stood there.

"Emily?" he called, "come here."

There was no response. Voldemort turned to his followers. "Where is she? Has she left?"

Many awkward glances were exchanged, though all of them avoided meeting their master's eye.

"Severus, answer me."

Snape paused momentarily, looking for the right words. "I'm afraid Emily is no longer with us, my Lord."

"What do you mean?" his voice was calm – too calm.

"She was...murdered, my Lord."

"_Lies_."

"Arcturus and my father found her, my Lord. She had had her throat slit while she was working. I'm sorry, my Lord," Lucius stepped back, having said his piece.

"_Lies!_" he repeated in a hiss. "_Lies!_"

"It was the night you went to the Potters', my Lord," Snape went on to explain, "when the news came about...your disappearance, Abraxas went to tell her, only he was too late, _hours_ too late."

Red eyes searched black ones, eventually finding the information that confirmed Snape's words.

"Who did it?" he demanded.

"We don't know, my Lord. By the time Arcturus and Abraxas found her, the killer was long gone. We thought, perhaps it might have been something to do with _your_ absence –"

"Don't be _foolish_, Severus. Somebody who had access to this house murdered Emily, and if that person is still idiotic enough to be alive, then I will see to it that their circumstance changes."

A tense silence fell over them, and finally it was Lucius who spoke.

"She is buried in the garden, my Lord. Down the end, under the beech tree."

"In the _garden?_"

"It was done properly, my Lord," Lucius stammered. "My father and Arcturus saw to it that it was done with the greatest of respect –"

"Leave me," he whispered.

They didn't need telling twice, and less than a moment later, he was standing alone, looking at, but not seeing the detailed wooden panels on the wall. He gripped the wooden bannister with one large pale hand and climbed the stairs slowly.

He pushed open the door to her bedroom, and immediately her flowery scent filled his nostrils. He paused before stepping inside, shutting the door behind him.

A book was lying open on the bedside cabinet, she'd probably gone to fetch a glass of pumpkin juice. The chair at her desk was at an odd angle, a pair of high heeled black ankle boots on the floor next to it, having only been pulled off a few moments ago. The drawer of her desk was slightly ajar, reams upon reams of parchment visible through the small crack.

Her boomerang had been laid on the surface of her dressing table, next to a bottle of perfume, the scent of which hung in the air. She may have just sprayed it. Perhaps she had known he was returning and thought that it would be best that she were in perfect condition for him.

"_Where have you been?" _

"_Throwing my boomerang."_

"_Why?"_

"_I like it."_

"_Why?"_

"_It always comes back."_

He picked up the ornately framed photo that stood on the dressing table. Taken in his seventh year it showed him, as a teenager, forcing out one of those genuine smiles that used to make her go dizzy. She was biting her lip coyly, her eyes sparkling as she looked into the camera, arms wrapped around his waist, head resting against his chest.

He sat down at the desk and waited for her to come back, she wouldn't be long. She was never away from him for long, not unless he ordered her to be. She was probably visiting friends who would look at her youthful glow with bitter envy.

Perhaps she was visiting that sister of hers.

The carriage clock on the mantelpiece told him that it was after midnight. His lipless mouth pressed into a thin, impatient line. How many times had he told her to make sure she was home before dark? There were too many people that wanted to harm her, believing they could use her as leverage against him.

"_Oh come off it, that's not how they work. They know I'm no murderer." _

"_You're a murderer by association, my dear. The Order of the Phoenix would not think twice about hurting you." _

_Emily frowned. "Really?"_

"Really,_ so make sure you are _always_ home by nightfall."_

_She nodded, and left him in his study._

He opened the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out two crystal tumblers and a bottle of Firewhiskey. He uncorked it and poured a generous amount into each glass before setting the bottle back on the desk. He raised one of the glasses to his mouth, sipping at the burning liquid, not feeling a thing as it trickled down his throat.

"_Let me try," she said, holding out her hand for a glass. _

"_Sweetheart, you're not nearly old enough to be touching this stuff," Arcturus said, keeping the bottle and the three glasses well out of her reach. _

"_Tom, make him," she said, turning to him, waiting expectantly for him to do something. _

"_If she wants to try let her try," he said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her towards him. His hands slipped under her shirt (_his_ shirt, actually) to rest on the smooth skin of her stomach and she leaned back against his chest, making herself comfortable._

"_Oh I see how it is," Abraxas said, "all it takes is a fluttering of eyelashes and you'll do whatever you're asked." _

_Tom smirked, saying nothing in reply. _

"_Or is it that we have to have sex with you, and _then_ you'll give us whatever we desire?"_

"_If you ever even _attempt_ to have sex with me," Tom warned, "you will be very sorry indeed." _

"_Yeah," Emily added. "Get your own piece of meat, he's mine." _

_Tom smirked against the skin of her neck, his eyes meeting with Abraxas' slightly surprised ones._

_Eventually Arcturus passed a glass of Firewhiskey her way. She didn't flinch when she tried it, and so he forgave her for her possessive remark._

He ran one long finger along the edge of the desk, then lifted it up to inspect it. There was no dust. The entire house was in pristine condition.

"_How long would you say a good Cleaning Charm lasts?" she asked him, bobbing on her toes slightly, wand held behind her back._

"_Since when did you care about Cleaning Charms? You always said the very _thought_ of household charms makes you want to vomit."_

"_I _know_," she said, "but seeing as we're here for a while, and none of your puppies seem to be making any effort to keep things clean I thought I'd better take a look at some. How long do they usually last?"_

"_I...a month or so. I'm busy, can't you go to Diagon Alley and get a book on it?" _

"_I've tweaked one slightly. And by my calculations – and you know my calculations are _always_ right, you can even double check if you like – this one I'm about to cast should last about three centuries."_

_He put his quill down and turned around in his seat to give her his full attention. "Three centuries?"_

_She handed him a long reel of parchment, and eventually he found the scarlet circle which denoted the boundaries of all the relevant information. His barely-there eyebrows rose as he worked through it all in his head and found no fault. _

"_You could probably apply the same theory to _any_ spell," Emily told him proudly. "_Now_ do you see why I'm bothering you?" _

_His thin lips curved into a smile and he placed the parchment on his desk. "I'm going to keep a hold of this," he told her. _

"_Okay," she said. "I'm going to cast my charm, don't worry if everything suddenly looks _nice_, there's no reason to panic." She turned around, pulling open the door of his study._

"_Emily," he called after her. _

_She stopped and turned back to him. _

"_I'm glad you're here." _

"_Really?"_

"Really_," he confirmed._

_She couldn't have looked more pleased._

The carriage clock on the mantelpiece now told him that it was almost four in the morning. He swirled the last of his Firewhiskey around in the bottom of his glass before downing it.

If she was alive, she would have come to find him. She would have helped him and this long wait for his return to power would not have been necessary.

If she was alive, his absence would have been a mere month, perhaps a little more.

If she was alive, she wouldn't leave him waiting like this, draining glass after glass of Firewhiskey on his own.

If she was alive, there would be no faint traces of blood on the desk where even the most powerful cleaning charm had been unable to clean up after a murder.

He set his glass down on the desk and picked up the photograph in his lap.

Taking one last look at wavy brown hair and mischievous blue eyes, he opened the top drawer of the desk, put the picture face down inside it and locked it.

He got up and left the room, locking the door behind him.

He paused at the window at the end of the hallway, and looked out into the garden. Down below in the dark, he could see a large stone tomb, though the light was not good enough to make out the etchings on it.

He travelled down the stairs quickly, taking one last look around at the house that he had lived in for over twenty years with Emily.

After that, he left Myre Creek for good.


	12. Afterwards

**A/N:** And we're done. Next chapter of Tempora Abducto will be posted this evening, hopefully. Thanks to all those who have faithfully reviewed each chapter, I appreciate it loads. Look out for the companion piece to this in the next month or so. Four words: Arcturus, Abraxas, Tom, Paris. This is a fairly short chapter, but hopefully you'll like what it has to offer. Let me know what you think! =]

* * *

**The Years that Followed the Morning After.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

He couldn't see. He opened and closed his eyes, but the action made no difference; he was surrounded by pitch black. He turned his head left, and then right, though again, there was no difference. His breath was hot on his face, as though it was being bounced back at him via some surface that he couldn't see in the darkness.

The next thing he knew, he was being blinded by bright light, and a burst of fresh air cooled his face instantly.

He squinted, trying to make out the scene in front of him, reaching for his wand, ready to strike at the first sign of attack. After a few seconds, his eyes focused and he frowned, confused at the sight before his eyes.

"Hey," she said, smiling gently.

"Hello," he said, and he frowned at the sound of his voice. It was smooth, polite, and devoid of any hissing.

He looked her up and down. "What are you holding that for?" he nodded to the Sorting Hat, which was hanging loosely from her fingers, the rim brushing against her calf.

She merely smiled.

"Where is everyone?" he looked around at the Great Hall. The House tables were all in their proper places, there were no bodies, no crowds, no Death Eaters and no _Potter_. He looked down and saw he was sitting on the wooden four legged stool that was usually reserved for first years on their first evening in the castle.

"Emily –"

"It's over," she said. "Can you accept that?"

"What's over?" he demanded, sick of her being so vague. "How are you even – they told me you were dead, where have you..." he trailed off, looking around the room once more.

Everything was in tact. There wasn't a single piece of cracked stone, no broken glass, the teachers' chairs were all in their proper places and the hourglasses that kept track of the house points held all their gems safely inside their containers. He smirked when he saw that Slytherin had a considerable lead on the other houses. Looking outside, he could that the grounds had not remotely suffered – the grass was still green and neatly cut, with no great muddy footprints left behind by his giant allies.

He turned back to Emily. "This is..."

She smiled sympathetically, but said nothing.

"But I _can't_ be..." he didn't even want to say the word. "I took steps to ensure...I survived before!"

Emily just looked at him. She wasn't smiling this time, however.

He looked down at his hands. They were fleshy, and there was some (if only very pale) colour to them. He no longer had the elongated chalky white claws that his resurrection had gifted him with, but the hands he had been _born_ with.

He plucked at the worn grey fabric of his trousers with a frown, then looked down at the embroidered patch on his robes, covering the upper left side of his chest.

Slytherin.

He let out a shaky breath and ran his hand over his head, except he was met by _hair_, thick, and black, from the little he could see when he tugged a chunk of it down, raising his eyes skywards so he could inspect the oddity.

"Tom."

He twitched, but didn't say anything to her.

"_Tom_," she said again, more forcefully this time.

"_What_?"

Emily smiled, and he gripped the sides of the stool tightly, his teeth grinding together with impatience.

"It's different here," she said at last. "You're Tom Riddle, and you have to deal with that before we can go any further."

He didn't say anything.

"I know he wasn't the man he should have been, or the man you'd have liked him to be, but _you_ are Tom Riddle, it doesn't matter what he was, he's gone."

"Where are we?"

"Tom," she said warningly. "We can't –"

"Fine! I'm Tom Riddle, though I don't see what that's got to do with anything," he narrowed his eyes at her, his lips pouting.

"This place doesn't like dark wizards with delusions of grandeur. It _is_, however, rather partial to ex-Head Boys who got top marks in every exam they ever took."

He narrowed his eyes even further. "'_Delusions of grandeur_'? Don't think you can talk to me like that, you've got away with so much in the –"

"What are you going to do?" she challenged, one hand resting on her hip. "Kill me?"

His anger dissolved immediately and he found he was smirking, and he knew it looked good because now he had _lips_, he could feel them, and Emily was looking at him in a way that she hadn't looked at him since that last night before he had gone away, when she had asked for that boomerang...

"Who did it?" Tom asked after a short silence. His voice was shaking, his rage returning at the mental image of her lying on the floor of her bedroom, bleeding all over the carpet, blue eyes staring, but seeing nothing. No spark of mischief lighting them, no glimmer of excessive and endless knowledge.

"Bella," she said simply. "But that doesn't matter, not now."

"Of _course _it matters!" he spat. "Where is she?" he tried to stand up, but found that he couldn't remove himself from the stool.

"Not here."

"She must be punished!"

"She will be, but not by you."

"But –"

"But _nothing_. There are more important things at hand. That stunt you pulled with those Horcruxes has left your eternal soul in a very sorry state –"

She didn't sound at all concerned, at least, not in the way witches and wizards usually were when it came to soul destroying magic, and Tom thought that perhaps that was another reason he had kept her around for as long as he had.

"– You're left with two options," she continued, "You can either stay on that stool for all eternity –"

"No."

"Thought not," she said with a grin. "Or you can come with us."

"Us?"

Emily looked towards the Slytherin table and he followed her line of sight. He must not have seen them before, perhaps Emily had been standing in the way, but Arcturus and Abraxas were sitting opposite each other, looking exactly how Tom remembered them from seventh year. They were arguing furiously over a game of chess, and Arcturus picked up a knight, throwing it at Abraxas before he stormed off, out of the Great Hall.

"On second thoughts..."

"We've got the whole castle," Emily told him. "The three of us, well, four, if you're coming too."

"Really?"

Emily nodded and held out her hand.

He stood up and took it.

* * *

**The End.**


End file.
